


To Bring You Back

by Aloemilk



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 01:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 42,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1725773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aloemilk/pseuds/Aloemilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ron went Missing in Action after an Auror mission, Hermione's life turned upside down. Now he's back, but the trauma he suffered while gone puts a strain on their relationship. How can they face this challenge, and at the same time capture his kidnappers? Will they stop the Dark Wizards in time? COMPLETE</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Quick breaths, sighs, and moans died slowly in the otherwise quiet room. After a few moments had passed, Ron freed her from his weight by falling onto his back and taking Hermione with him. Used to this move by now, she just let herself follow the motion and resting her head on his shoulder.

It was all of those little things she knew to expect from him that made her miss him the most. She knows she will miss that she wouldn't catch him appreciating her body at the oddest moments, or that he wouldn't interrupt her in the middle of a chore to make love to her right there and then. She'll miss that when she gets out of the bathroom in the mornings she won't find a cup of tea on her dresser, or the quick kiss goodbye he gives her before she leaves for work.

It was like her brain didn't know he was away on a mission, and it requested that he be there with her, making tea for her and kissing her goodbye. It was like it demanded she had those things, and his smell, and annoying habits, or it wouldn't consent on working properly.

She didn't really blame her brain; she knew how much Ron was a part of her. Still, it didn't mean she didn't care for the way her whole self seemed to miss him when he was away. This time, it seemed it'd be at least a month. She was already upset by the way she knew she'd feel after just a few days of his absence.

"How certain is it you'll be back in a month?" she asked.

He started caressing the skin on her back, taking a little time to reply. When he answered, his voice was heavy with sleep. "I really don't know. The track we have on them is weak at best, and the way they're moving is more than a bit weird, so we're forced to go and track them personally. It really depends on what we catch them doing and where or when. The four week estimate could either be more pessimist than needed or far too innocent… so I really don't know."

"Do you at least have an idea what they might be doing there? You told me it was a rocky forest kind of place, and that you, nor the team, couldn't imagine what they'd want there."

"Yesterday we got Neville's consultation report. Can you imagine he's a Hogwarts' teacher now and a freelance consultant in Herbology for the Ministry?" he said, smiling.

She smiled back. "Yes, I can. The youngest professor in Hogwarts' history; I've always known he's great."

"Oh, yeah, I know," he replied, looking at her sideways. "He was the first guy you ever talked to on the train."

She laughed an incredulous laugh. "Please, Ron, you can't possibly tell me you're jealous of that  _now_?"

"I'm not jealous, Hermione. I'm just... stating a fact."

She looked him down as best as she could from where she was. "Good. Anyway, what did Neville's report say?"

"It said that there were some plants in the area that are really difficult to find, and most useful for some dark magic potions. Ramsden did a follow up of some of the suspects, and maybe that is what those wizards are after. Those plants could be sold for high sums of money, if they're not planning on doing the potions themselves."

"Yes, it could be that. It's good Auror Ramsden will go as a part of the team. He must have studied the suspects' profile in depth when he did the report, so he'll be able to tell you more about what to expect from them."

After few seconds had passed by, Hermione finally decided to say the only thing left for her to say. "I'm going to miss you. I always do, and it has never been more than a couple of weeks before."

"I can't deny it makes me happy to know you'll miss me." He kissed the top of her head. "Does it make it better to know I'll miss you, too?"

She sighed. "I know you'll miss me, but will a part of your brain always be thinking that something might have happened to me and you don't know?"

She knew her voice had sounded a little strained, but she hadn't been able to help it.

"In a certain way yeah, it will. I always wonder how you are, what you're doing… it's not easy being away, you know."

"I know that, and it's now what I meant," she replied, breathing deep and trying not to sound angry. Their last night together wasn't supposed to end with a quarrel. "It's just that I'll keep doing the same things I always do, only that you won't be here… it's such a contrast, because I know what I'll be missing."

She got up to support her weight on an elbow, watching him closely.

He was wide-awake now, certainly because he'd realized it was a serious conversation for her. His hair was a mess, a consequence of her fingers running through it as they made love a short while ago. His brows were furrowed, his skin slightly flushed. His hand had stilled on her back. "Hermione… you know this is part of the job. You know I have to go."

"I know that. It's exactly why I've never asked you to stay, even if I can't help being afraid that maybe  _this_  time something will happen that'll stop you from coming back." She saw he was ready to reply to that, but she interrupted him with a hand on his chest. "I know you're one of the best Aurors out there, that helps me control the fear. I know you won't be making silly mistakes or risking your life unnecessarily… but it still doesn't guarantee me that you'll be back. It's that small chance that something unpredictable will happen that keeps worming its way to my thoughts, and making me wish it wasn't a part of the job for you to go away on missions.

"I know," she continued after taking a deep breath, "… that anything could happen, here, or there, or in two years. Rationally, I know all of that. You can't deny, though, that the chances rise if you're in an unfamiliar territory fighting Dark Wizards."

"But…"

"All I mean by this, Ron, is please come back to me, okay?"

That silenced his reply. His eyes softened. "Merlin, Hermione…" His free hand reached for her face, caressing it. "You know I couldn't stay away, even if I tried. And I wouldn't!"

"I know, but..."

"There's no way I'd leave you," he continued. Now his hand found hers on his chest, looking for her engagement ring. "There's no way I'd leave all of this behind."

"Oh, Ron..." she tried to find the words for what she was feeling. The problem was that even she didn't understand where this all was coming from. "I know you wouldn't, but we can never know. So I guess all that there's left to say is that I love you."

He kissed her. "You're right, we never know what might happen. I can't promise I'll be back... but I can promise I'll try for as long as I'm alive to come back to you. I love you, too."

They kissed again, trying to convey with their lips all the emotions this conversation had provoked. They hugged, trying to get as close to each other as they could, so maybe their bodies would finally imprint on each other. Then they made love, hoping maybe this time the feeling of being joined would last them forever.

What they didn't know was no matter how much they tried, their bodies and souls would still call for each other when apart. Even after months of not knowing where Ron was.


	2. In Between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a short chapter. Next ones are all about double in size, so it should get better :)
> 
> Thanks again and forever to Pili <3

Ten months, thirteen days and three quarters, that's how long Ron had been gone. Another day was ending, and there were still no news about him.

Hermione left the documents she had brought home from work on the coffee table and let herself fall on the couch. Sprawled there, she allowed herself to simply stay quiet and do nothing but breathe. Work had been hard that day, with many projects on her desk waiting for her to review. Since Ron had been gone, she spent most of her day at the office, and her boss was too clever to miss an opportunity like that. She had piled report after report on Hermione's files, then project after project on her to-do folder. It had taken Hermione to work up to 10 hours a day just to keep up. And that was not counting all the follow-up paperwork she did at home. Still, Hermione wasn't complaining; it kept her busy, and being busy meant she didn't have much time to think about Ron.

Sometimes, when she did find some free time, she would visit her parents. They had always been caring towards her, and had tried hard to understand their peculiar child. Even after their return from Australia, when their pain hurt had built a wall between them, Hermione's parents had made an effort to understand her decisions. Overtime, that wound had healed but the divide between Hermione's Muggle life and her magical one had only grown bigger.

That was the reason why she spent most of her free time with the Weasleys and Harry. Not only did they love her like one of their own, but they  _understood_ her.

She knew she was probably mistaken in devoting her life to her job and spending her free time with the Weasleys and Harry. She knew there were a lot of expectations regarding what she chose to do with her life. Aside from being successful at work, people seemed to have a very clear idea of whether they wanted her to wait a bit more for news about Ron, or whether she should go on with her life.

Well, that troubled her. To start with, what did  _go on with her life_ _ **mean**_? Because her life was still going on. She still went to work and went out with her friends. If all they meant, though, was that she had to start dating again...  _That_  was another problem altogether. She didn't want to date anyone.

The fact that Ron's disappearance had been all over The Prophet meant that everyone knew she was alone, or at least that Ron wasn't there, which many thought meant they had a chance with her. A few guys had invited her out, and she'd accepted a total amount of two times. The first guy had seemed interested in her because of her status as a war hero  _-_ those had been his words. He said he thought of her as a bloody  _war hero_! To make it worse, he had tried to impress her with talk of books and operas - he was Muggleborn, too - and intellectual riddles. Yes, she was very interested in books, everyone kept saying how brilliant she was... but her life wasn't all about that. Yes, she naturally tended to all of that, but for a partner, she needed someone that could balance her and make her experience the other sides of herself. She needed Ron.

Hermione let out a sigh, frustrated at her own thoughts. She knew she would always compare everyone to him, and that it would be a big problem for a long while yet. That's what had actually happened with the second guy she went out with. He was nice enough, but had no spark. She couldn't imagine herself with anyone she didn't feel any kind of spark for, the kind of spark she felt for Ron from the very beginning.

She got up from the couch and ordered her things before going to put on her pyjamas. She wondered whether she could even find a guy attractive at all after knowing Ron. Maybe Ron had ruined every other guy for her. She scoffed at how illogical and corny it sounded... still, her brain put that question there for her to consider. What if she couldn't find anyone else she would want to spend time with? What if she grew old waiting for Ron and died a spinster because she never found a way to move on? The biggest problem was, setting everything else aside, that she wasn't ready to move on because she still wasn't sure she had to.

He had disappeared on a mission. He wasn't actually  _dead_ , not that she knew of. Some would argue she was stubborn, not wanting to accept he was gone. And maybe she was stubborn. Still, what could she do? A love like she felt for Ron was hard to let go.

She saw some of his clothes as she opened her closet. If she was honest with herself, she knew  _that_  was something she should have done - take his things away and pack them in a safe place. She just hadn't been able to do it. Maybe that made her a whiny, pathetic little Penelope, nothing at all like her usual practical self. She found she just couldn't be rational when it related to Ron. Besides, if she took his things out, it would be like accepting that it could be ages until he came back. It didn't really matter how weak that made her, she just wasn't ready.

She decided she wasn't hungry enough to have dinner, and instead just prepared for bed. The following day she was going to the Weasleys' anyway, and that meant lots of food. She stared at the darkened ceiling for a few moments after clicking off the light. This night had been a especially difficult one, like those she'd experienced the first couple of months after Ron had disappeared. She had to guess it was because the year was drawing to an end.

She welcomed the summon of sleep. That way she wouldn't have to think of how close to being a whole year it had been since he had been missing. In a night like this one, it was simply too much to handle. She promised herself that when the year ended, she would go over all of this again. She would look at her life without Ron, and figure out a way to make it work.


	3. Her Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have too much to do tomorrow. Father's Day Brunch, then shopping, then refreshments at an aunt's... Therefore, I'm posting today! Hopefully, next week I'll go back to posting on Sundays :)
> 
> Thank you to Pili, as always, for her beta work. Also, thanks to my husband, for helping me figure out a couple plot twists happening in the following chapters!

Hermione had always enjoyed the company of the Weasleys, even if being in their presence was now bittersweet.

To her, they had always been a mystery. How was it possible to live with so many people around? How did they ever get the opportunity to say something when there were so many people wanting to talk? Were they different to her because they were Purebloods? She had been fascinated by their genealogy tree; she hadn't been able to help herself, she'd studied it as soon as she'd known they were a purely magical family. They were _so many_ of them! It was such a contrast to her own family. She was an only child of two loving, but rather absent, parents who seemed to always be a little confused by their magical child and the world she now lived in. As for her extended family, she had only two cousins she rarely got to see. Still, she made friends with a boy that had a life with no points in common with hers.

At first, she had expected that her fascination for him and his family would diminish with time. She didn't expect the friendship to disappear, for Ron had proved to be such a loyal and good bloke; sometimes immature, sometimes hurtful, but a great friend nonetheless. She _had_ expected her fascination for him to lessen; instead, it was a shock to realize that as time had passed by, the attraction and the longing she felt for the family, and Ron, had only evolved into love.

The first time she realised she loved the Weasleys - Ron included - she had panicked a little bit. What if they didn't feel the same? How could she even _think_ she loved Ron? Soon she discovered, to her pleasure, that the love she felt for Ron _had_ to be fraternal, and that his family treated her like one of their own. That had to mean they loved her just like she loved them. Of course, it hadn't been long before she had to accept that even if her love for the Weasleys was that of a family member, her love for Ron had a completely different tint. She loved Ron like a girl could love a boy. Even if she had fought against that feeling and then had suffered the fears and insecurities that had come along with, it had all worked in the end.

All of these convictions had been tested after the war ended. Being a part of the Weasleys when a member of the family had died had been incredibly difficult. Seeing them break down had broken her, too, but she had had to be brave to be someone Ron could rely on. She didn't regret it. It had cemented their relationship beyond what they thought possible after knowing each other for so long... beyond what they thought possible for such a newly started couple. Being together was different from being friends. They learned that fast.

The history she had with the Weasleys and the way she understood Ron's family had been in the foreground after he had disappeared. Despite being in the midst of their own worry, the Weasleys had been there for her. They'd taken care of her and kept closely in touch with her, making her feel more than family. Like Arthur had told her once, it wasn’t because she was Ron's fiancée, it was simply that they loved her for who she was, and they knew she loved them back. The least they could do was take care of one of the most important persons in their son’s life... someone that loved Ron as much as they loved him.

All of these thoughts and images crossed her mind as she sat at the table with the family, Harry included. Seeing them together was great and fulfilling... while, at the same time, it accentuated the feeling of missing Ron. It was especially hard when Molly brought up anything to do with Ron, like she was obviously about to do at the moment. After the food was eaten, and with a glass in her hand, she waited to have everyone's attention.

“I wish all my children were here with me,” the matriarch said in a tone that warned everyone of what was likely going to happen. It had happened before. “Fred's gone, and I've somewhat come to terms with that. One _never_ recovers from losing a son, but one must try to live with it. The case of Ron is different. I know he'll be back soon. I know he's not gone forever. I know he's alive, maybe even on his way home right now. For that, for the possibility of my son’s return, I propose a toast.”

The air around the table was tense with unspoken words and uncomfortable looks. Hermione could feel furtive eyes setting in her direction, making her wish she could either scream at them or escape to the garden.

_Melodramatic, much?_ she asked herself, internally snickering. _At least it would be a good distraction!_

“Don't stare at me like that, boy, nor pretend you're not staring. I know you think I'm in denial, but I'm not!” Molly said, pointing a finger at George.

“If you are in denial, how would you expect us to believe you when you say you're not?” George asked.

“You'll have more respect for me, young man. I'm your mother! If I say I'm not in denial, then I'm not. I just _know_!”

“There's no harm in having hopes, son”, Arthur intervened.

Hermione wished everyone thought that way.

"I think Arthur is right," Hermione said. It was all she allowed herself to voice. She knew by experience the way this discussions went, and she didn't want to antagonize anyone. Besides, if she spoke her mind, she would be forced to express all her fears; being vulnerable like that would be too much for her, considering how she had been feeling the past few days. Remaining silent, in this case, was all about self preservation.

“I don't have _hopes_ , Arthur... I **_know_** , doesn't anyone listen to me anymore in this house?”

“Of course there is, Dad,” Percy answered his father, ignoring his mother. “How do you move on if you won't accept what has happened? You can't keep looking back wishing things were different or trying to find a way to change them. Things are what they are, and we have to take them as they are. Fred's gone, we learned to live with it. Ron's gone, it's time we accepted that as well!”

Molly's comments had quickly resulted in a discussion. Hermione had heard similar arguments before. She wasn't surprised Percy thought that way; many people did and had been pressuring her to go out and meet new people. It always felt like their advice was actually confronting her way of dealing with it.

“Besides,” Percy continued, “it's not only about mourning someone. Life-turning decisions are at stake. I mean, what is Hermione supposed to do, die alone surrounded by cats?”

“Percy,” Ginny said, saving Hermione from having to answer that statement. It had come too close to her own fears for her to manage to say anything coherent. “There's no need to be such a prat about it.”

“I'm not being a prat, I'm being honest. The fact no one here can see it worries me. How long do we have to pretend Ron will return? It's been a year, for Merlin's sake. If he were going to come back, he would have done so already! Stop this nonsense, and let's move on. We lost two of us, let's just face it.”

“You're most definitely being a prat,” George countered. “ _I_ lost a twin. Yet I'm not _quite_ as bitter!”

Hermione could see Percy sending daggers with his eyes in George's direction, to which the latter replied by smiling a little. “C'mon, brother. Ron's disappearance is different from Fred's death. Maybe _you_ should consider that, at least for a moment.”

“If my brother the git can see that, I know you can, too,” Ginny told Percy, trying to lighten the mood with a bit of teasing.

“Hey!” George scoffed. “Your brother the _git_? Thanks very much for making my mature comment look impossible coming from me!”

Hermione had to thank the inappropriate laugh Harry let out at the interaction.

“I'm sorry,” her friend said. When he realised all eyes were on him, he found himself in the position of having to settle the matter. “All I know is the Auror Department considers Ron Missing In Action, not Presumably Dead. That's all I need to know.”

“We all know it's because _you_ won't let the case be closed,” Percy argued. "Everybody in the Ministry think Ron is dead."

“Percy!” came from several mouths.

“What?” he tersely replied.

“Clean the table, Percy,” Molly said. “It's time for the dessert.”

The rustle and movement gave Hermione the space to get up and go to the window. The discussion had distressed her; what should she do? Accept Ron was gone, or accept she didn't believe that just yet? Which was the better option? What was she _supposed_ to do? Just go on as she was and set a deadline in which she'd reconsider everything? How long was she meant to wait?

“You were too quiet there,” she heard her friend's voice say coming close to her. "That's not the Hermione I know."

She turned a little to welcome him. “What could I say? I don't know what I'm supposed to think about all this. Fighting with Percy won't help me figure it out.”

“I don't know what we're supposed to think, either... but I know how I feel. And that feeling is telling me I'm not ready to let go of Ron yet.”

“You too, then?” she let a thankful sigh escape her.

He took her hand. “Yeah, me too. It might be proven a mistake if time passes by and he's not returned but... as of now, no, I can't make up my mind yet.”

“Me either, Harry. Me either.”

* * *

 

She wasn't the first to leave Molly's house, nor was she the last one. But leave she did, to be home alone once again.

The day had taken its toll. As if her own ruminations weren't enough, that day's discussion had put a heavier weight on her. It just had been too close to her own fears.

"Don't mind Percy, Hermione," Arthur had said as she said goodbye. "He still feels guilty to have drifted away from us and to have missed Fred's last months. He wants to try and make it all better for us, but he doesn't know how to do it."

Hermione had hugged him and whispered her thanks, then proceeded to leave the place.

Now at the home Ron and Hermione had chosen for them, she walked to their bedroom and sat on the bed, staring at her engagement ring. She had never taken it off.

“What am I supposed to do?” she said aloud to the empty room, soft echoes coming back to her. “I don't want to let go of you.” She knew, deep down, it all came to that. That's why she couldn't allow for another relationship to start. The dates she had had were all a ruse, as unfair as it had been for the blokes she had gone out with. She had needed to have real, concrete proof that dating was not for her. She had tried it; it hadn't worked. If the day ever came when she felt the need to go out and meet new people, she knew it would mark a big turn for her. It would be the main sign of having left Ron behind, maybe the only one. Whatever happened, she'd keep visiting the Weasleys, meeting with Harry, working at the Ministry. If she started dating again, though, it would finally show she had moved on.

She closed her ring hand in a fist and let it hit the mattress in frustration. Why did she even have to consider the idea of dating again at all? If Ron hadn't disappeared, they'd be married. Dating would have never been something she had to worry about again. But no, he wasn't with her, they weren't married and dating was a possibility.

She fell back to the bed, holding the ring in sight again.

“Ron, please come back.”

She hadn't allowed herself to ask that aloud in months.

If there was something she was ready to accept, it was how good it felt to plead for that again.


	4. Talk About It

Several days later, Hermione entered a pub in a hurry, knowing she was a bit late. She spotted Harry immediately and walked purposely to him.

"Hey," he greeted her. "What happened?"

"I'm sorry, the conference lasted longer than I expected."

She asked for a butterbeer and, once it was served, told Harry what had been on her mind all day. The whole point of getting together with Harry was to have someone to talk about what was bothering her or him. They both used to have that in Ron.

"Today, I spotted a ginger as I walked to the Ministry," Hermione commented. "My heart did a double take."

"I know what you mean. It's happened to me too."

"It's awful; I'm tired of this. I wish Ron would come back already."

Neither mentioned the other possibility, to know for sure if he was dead.

"It's going to be a year soon," Harry said.

"I'm dreading it."

"You are? Why?"

"I guess... I guess a year sounds lots more than a number of months. I feel... I feel like I should make decisions by that time."

"What kind of decisions?"

"You know, Harry. Dating. That seems to be in everyone's mind when they think of a definite sign of me getting back on my feet."

"The thing is  _you_  seem to be thinking you have to start dating again."

"Don't do that to me, Harry. Don't turn that on me. I'm just trying to understand what's going on, and decide what I'm going to do now that a year is drawing to an end. I wish I didn't feel like a year marks a deadline, but I do. Now, I find myself considering what others think I should do, because I have no idea. I don't  _want_  to date, but maybe I should - that's what troubles me."

"I seriously don't understand why it's such a fuss. You dating, I mean. Why, is it really expected of every single woman to date? Can't a woman just be alone for a time if she so wishes? This is not the Middle Age, women can be perfectly happy alone if they want to."

Hermione laughed. "You sound like Ginny. She would have told me that."

"I heard it from Ginny," Harry said, smiling. "She... that's what she replied to a friend wanting to introduce you to her brother."

"See? Everyone's expecting me to date!"

"I guess it's not because you're not dating, but because circumstances have set you completely out of reach."

"Excuse me? That must have been Ginny, too."

"Yes," he smirked. "She said it lots more eloquently, though. We were talking about her friend, right? She got really upset on your behalf, knowing it's not easy for you to know people are expecting you to go out and meet men; either because they want you happy or because they want to have a reason to be scandalized because Hermione  _Granger_  stopped waiting for Ron  _Weasley_. Every person that read The Prophet when he disappeared knows you two were together and about to get married. There'll be people with nothing else to do but wanting to be disappointed in you."

"Great," Hermione replied, bitterly. "I hadn't thought of that."

"Oh, no," Harry took her hand, mortified. "I'm sorry. I should have let Ginny have this discussion with you. I'm not good at this."

"Don't worry," she told him, patting his hand and letting go. "You're my friend as much as she is. I would have heard that from either of you sooner or later. The thing is, never mind the readers of The Prophet, people close to me are expecting me to date. A couple of friends at work have been insisting, telling me that the right time is never going to come. They say it's like trying to find the _right time_  to talk about delicate stuff; there is no such time. Most of all, it's my mum that's been advising me it's time to start dating. She liked Ron, but it seems she feels that I'm wasting my time. She has a clear idea of what she thinks is going to happen, and that doesn't involve Ron returning. I hate that. And at the end of the day, I simply don't want to date."

"So don't date. Don't listen to your friends or your mum. They might mean well, but... if you don't want to date, then don't."

"You don't think I should?"

"Do  _you_  think you should?"

"I'm asking  _you_!"

"And why should  _I_  decide? It's your life! Ginny and I and everyone who loves you will be here whatever you choose to do."

"You see, I went out twice already. I tried it, mostly to prove them wrong, and I hated every second of it. If I seriously start dating, I would feel like I'm betraying Ron."

"Hermione, the only one here who betrayed Ron was me."

She looked up sharply, unbelieving. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm here, and he's not."

"Why... and you feel  _guilty_?"

"I'm not sorry for being here, and  _that's_  what makes me feel guilty. What makes me feel worse, though, is knowing I was there, too, and I couldn't bring him back with me."

"Harry, none of you who were there remembers what happened. Some of you have a few unchained memories, but that's it. You're the one that remembers the most, and still that's an awfully small amount. Moore and Johnson lost several weeks worth of memories! Not to mention Aurors Augustus and Miller; their families are still grieving their loss. And you feel guilty because you don't know what happened? That's absurd!  _Nobody_  knows what happened!"

"Whatever happened, I should have been there with him, Hermione. I should know what happened to him, and I should have brought him back. That's the whole point."

* * *

 

Harry remembered everything up to a point. The team had met the first morning of the mission and Apparated to the planned spot in pairs, he and Ron together as usual. Then they had inspected the place, setting camp only when the night was too close for them to risk not finding an appropriate place.

Two pairs each morning would leave to investigate the possible location of the Dark Wizards. One night, before going to sleep, Ron and Harry had been talking close to the smokeless fire they'd made. They were trying to decide the best course of action, considering they'd found nothing worthy yet. In that discussion, Harry had asked Ron to keep the list of the plants the Dark Wizards might be looking for. He'd seen Ron make a roll of it and put it on a hidden pocket in his trousers.

Then everything went black.

Flashes of light, scenes of fighting, curses flying, fear, confusion, escape, running through the trees, it was some of what he could remember. Waking up some undefined time later – hours, maybe? Or a whole day after, when the sun was up, surrounded by the same trees he'd avoided as he had run.

He'd found the other Aurors, one by one, most of them alive; yet, Ron was nowhere to be seen.

He looked for as long as he could, without endangering the other Aurors or himself, before he had to accept defeat and go back to the Ministry.

He wasn't surprised to find that having to tell Hermione, Ginny, and the Weasleys was one of the most difficult things he'd ever done in his life - and that was saying something. The question of why he'd run from the battle leaving Ron behind made him feel utterly guilty, and it fuelled his search for his friend. At first, they acted like Ron had been captured. A special team of the Auror Department was set to work exclusively on finding him, but no matter how many spells or tracking tactics they tried, they just weren't successful.

Time had passed, and they were running out of places to look. Harry pressured to make sure the case was never completely closed with a  _Presumably Dead_ seal, two words he had often heard but chose to never acknowledge. He once went as far as claiming they would never let a Hero like Ron be forgotten in a box labelled  _Pending_. It was almost a tradition in the department now: once a month, they'd try again.

As long as it was up to Harry that would never change.

* * *

 

A couple of days had passed since meeting with Harry, and Hermione kept thinking back to their talk. Luckily for her, she wasn't worried about having more people than she had originally imagined with an eye on her love life. She actually felt comforted knowing that Harry and Ginny thought like she did: she didn't have to date just yet. Still, she hated the fact she felt somewhat pressured to do it. She knew it had to do with the talk she'd just had over the phone with her mother. She had called to talk about Ron, and how soon it would be a full year since he had disappeared.

"It's almost eleven months since you're gone, Ron," she said to the walls. It was rapidly becoming something normal for her. "If you're back this month, everything is going to be okay, I'm sure of it."

_Because that has lots of logic_ , her mind told her.

"Well, you can just shut up," she replied to the voice in her head.

She went to the kitchen, still mulling over her phone conversation. Not finding any answers to her questions this time either, she decided she needed a break. She knew worrying was part of her nature, yet she realised she shouldn't keep thinking of this so obsessively. If she didn't want to date, then nobody should be forcing her to do it. It was her life, and she could do with it whatever she pleased.

To prove it, she decided she would pamper herself. Forget responsibilities for the night, and simply order some Italian food, drink some wine, and read a wonderful, simple, romantic paperback.

When Hermione called her favourite Italian place, she was told they were closed for the night. She complained, reminding them she was a loyal customer, but they had not taken pity on her. Refusing to let this ruin her night, she called and ordered Chinese. Immediately after, she opened a bottle of wine. With a glass in her hand, she sat on the couch deciding there was no reason she couldn't also take a wonderful bubble bath later that night. She reached for her book and tried to read.

The doorbell rang a while later. She opened and got the Chinese food, paid for it, and went humming to the kitchen to have dinner. At least her mood was improving. Or so she thought, until the doorbell rang again.

_What is it? Did I mistake the amount of money?_   _Because if the Italian came after all, I'll tell them what they can do with their food_ ,she thought, going quickly to the door to set things straight so she be able to finally eat.

When she opened the door, her first reaction was to reach for her wand. She'd expected some delivery-dressed guy she'd be able to somewhat look face to face. Instead, the person in front of her had filthy clothes over the chest she found at eye-level.

With a swift motion that took her only a couple of seconds, she pointed her wand to the threatening form on her doorstep. She thought of Dark Wizards and Muggle thieves in the few moments it took her to reach the stranger's eyes. The time that had gone in a flash and slow motion suddenly froze at what she found.

"Please, tell me you know who I am," Ron said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yeah :) I'm a little nervous as I post this. I hope you guys enjoy a good ol' cliffhanger, and what's coming in the next chapters!  
> Thanks as always to Pili!


	5. Captivity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to Pili, my wonderbeta, as always.   
> I also want to thank all the reviewers and followers. I am truly happy that you guys are enjoying this fanfic so far :) Each review has put a smile on my face.  
> Now onto the new chapter! I'm just glad I managed to post it in the middle of moving to my new place.

Ron woke up in a dark and humid room. His head hurt like hell, and by the flaming pain in his left ankle he thought that maybe he'd broken it.

He tried to sit up several times before succeeding. When he finally did, he had to breathe deeply and slowly to avoid throwing up. Whatever had happened to him, it had been bloody awful.

When he felt ready to move, he gingerly touched his ankle, searching for protruding bones that would show a fracture. Luckily for him, he didn't find anything else beyond really tender flesh. He'd only sprained it.

He did a mental recollection of the rest of his body. It seemed that besides his severely sprained ankle, he also had a probable concussion. Knowing that, he set on figuring out where he was. Again, very slowly, he got up and went to the only door in the room. He wasn't surprised to find it locked. There wasn't much light in the room, only the faintest shimmering coming through the window, and a yellow, shining light coming from underneath the door. He could make out the silhouettes of the few things that were in the room: an old, sad looking mattress in the corner and a broken plumbing pipe, which explained the sound of constant dripping and the musty, mouldy smell. He then jumped on his good feet to the hand-sized window and looked out through it.

He was in what appeared to be a woody area. Grass was growing high up to the room through the window and in between the thin metal bars. It was obviously night, but he couldn't see any bits of the dark sky. He had no idea what time it was or where he was. A  _crack_  that came from his back made him suddenly turn, making his ankle protest with a shooting pain. He let out a muffled  _bloody hell!_  before exploring and realizing food had been brought. It was just a piece of bread and some sort of non-descript soup, but it  _was_  food.

He ate in silence, and then lay on the mattress, thinking that maybe sleeping would help lessen his headache. Hopefully when he woke up, he'd also remember how it was he came to be in such a place or, much more important, who he was.

* * *

 

It took only a few days for Ron to understand he wasn't going to be set free any time soon. He'd started marking the days by scratching lines in the wall with a small rock he'd been able to reach through the window. Now the marks added up to three months and five days.

Twice a week a man would come and take him to another part of the house, the man's wand pointing right between his shoulder blades. It was when he saw that little piece of wood that he realised he didn't have one with him. Still, he wasn't surprised to see magic being used - a sense of knowing always arose within him when he saw the light and sparkles.

He dreaded those little outings while at the same time waited anxiously for them. He spent most of the time alone; twice a day food would appear with a  _crack_! but he never saw anyone... except for those days when they'd take him out and moved him around. The problem was that those times were never good. They would ask him questions he didn't have answers to, then try to convince him of him being someone his instincts told him he wasn't. On his darkest days he almost wanted to believe them, to assume he was a Dark Wizard like them. He recognised the words but never found a memory to attach to those words. But he knew, somehow he knew, that he wasn't a Dark Wizard as they insisted. Feeling anger every time those words were muttered to him was a clear sign that he could never be one of them.

When he failed to respond to them in the way they expected of him, they would get mad and do a few spells on him. There were days when he would find big chunks of time missing from his memory, which made him think that maybe they had ways of forcing him to forget. He had no way of knowing, and that frustrated him. In any case, none of it felt good. Sometimes it was really tempting to just give in and do what they asked.

He didn't understand why they needed him to accept he was someone he knew he wasn't. Maybe it had something to do with the few random bits of conversation he had overheard. The spell they wanted to do on him wouldn't work without him conceding he was a Dark Wizard; knowing that gave him the strength to resist being tortured. He would never do what they wanted of him.

Seven months had passed and his frustration and need to escape increased to insufferable levels. His body called for faceless people. He needed to breath fresh air to try and erase from his lungs the stale smell he'd been surrounded by all this time. He had to go back. He had no idea where or to whom, but he had to go back. He had to be free again.

Yet the routine of food twice a day never varied, nor the taking him out to be moved and confronted twice a week.

Once, he tried to escape. The man that had taken him away this time had left a door open behind him, and in a moment in which he'd turned to look for something, he'd made a run for it. The place they were at had turned out to be a single-story, old looking, wooden shackle. When he heard the guard scream in alarm, he crossed the door that opened up to a garden. He'd jumped over the fence, making a run for the woods and the chance of finding a place to hide. He had almost made it out in the clear when a pain he never thought was possible to survive made him fall and recoil on the floor. A wave of that indescribable pain came again, making him certain that this time he was dead for sure.

He wasn't. He was taken to that damn cell again, in which he had to spend the next few days with half the ration of food.

The need to escape again was what kept him sane, he was sure of that. He tried to do some exercise in his room, moving his body so it wouldn't lose function. The small space didn't allow for much, though, and that along the lack of healthy food had shrunk the muscles he had sported on the first days he'd been there. Sometimes he felt like he was slowly disappearing.

It had been ten months and a few days when he decided he couldn't wait anymore. If he did, he was sure he'd go crazy or simply die. Luckily for him a plan was soon available. While doing his exercise routine, he'd found a secret pocket in the lower part of his trousers. There he found a roll of paper, which listed several plants, and their uses next to them, along a drawing to recognise them. He'd seen plants cut and hung when he was taken out, but had never paid attention to them.

He memorized the descriptions. If he were lucky, he would be able to take hold of one of them. The next time he was taken out, he took the time to see what kind of plants have been those he'd seen cut on a table. When he saw the long, thin, dark green leaves on the table, he decided it would be as good a time as any other.

The list said those leaves were useful to make a most powerful venomous potion, but that if you chewed on the leaves it would make you unconscious. So, when the man that had taken him out this time turned his back to him, he got up as silently as he could and grabbed a handful of leaves. He crushed them in his hand, trying to release their juices.

It was then that his captor suddenly turned. Before he could react and scream or put a spell on him, Ron jumped and managed to choke him. The man's hands went to Ron's forearm, trying to free himself from his grasp. The despair and need to escape gave Ron enough strength to not let go. The guy's mouth was open in an effort to breathe. That made it easy for Ron to put the smashed leaves in his open mouth. Only a few moments later, the man went limp. When Ron set him down on the floor, he saw the man's eyes bulge open in surprise.

Ron took the wand lying on the floor and quickly searched for whatever he could take with him that would be useful. All he found in the few seconds he wasted there was a knife that was on the table and what looked like a silver cigarette lighter. He took them both and left right away, not looking back. He walked out of the house as silently as he could. He'd never been able to figure out how many people were in the house; it seemed to change with time. He crossed the same cleared space he'd try to escape through the previous time, running as fast as his tired, abused legs would allow. He didn't stop until his legs failed him and sent him down to the floor.

He stayed there, listening and trying to get his breath back. No sound came beyond that of the wind on the trees. Maybe he'd been lucky enough for the rest of the men in the house to expect him to be in his cell; maybe they had missed the, hopefully, still unconscious guy. Whatever had happened back there, it didn't seem they were close to where Ron was now.

A few minutes after that, he decided to get up and keep walking. He had no idea where he was or where he should go, but he did have a notion in which direction to go in order to get farther away from his captors. He kept walking in that direction until night fell upon him, and then he looked for a place to hide. He finally fell asleep with his stomach grunting for food.

* * *

 

It had been a few days since Ron had escaped. He had a wand, but no idea how to use it. He had a lighter that didn't work, and he also had a knife. He'd have to manage. He was eating even less than he did while kidnapped, and he didn't have a pipe to drink water from anymore. Still, the sense of finally being free was enough to keep him going.

One day he found a small town. He hadn't wanted to go into it immediately, suspecting that the wizards that had kept him prisoner would be looking for him there. He actually saw one of them walking on the streets of the town. He decided to surround the town and keep going, stealing some bread and apples from a barn he'd walked by.

One night he was hiding on a cave, trying to decide what to do and where to go. He hadn't wanted to light a fire, knowing the smoke could probably give his location away, if it didn't suffocate him first. Even so, when the night became too dark and too cold for his bad mood and exhaustion to stand, he took out the silvery thing he'd taken with him and clicked it, trying once again to see if it would work. Nothing happened. No small flame appeared.

It didn't matter, though. Not when a voice had come from it.  _I wish Ron would be back already._

The voice then died, but he  _had_  heard it. That hadn't been a mistake. He clicked it again, expecting the voice to come back. Instead, he realised a light had appeared at the mouth of the cave, pulsing in bluish tones. He knew, like he had known he wasn't a Dark Wizard, that he was supposed to follow it. So he did so for the next few days. During daylight it would be difficult to recognize, but Ron never stopped seeing it. He walked behind the ball of light wherever it took him, wondering how it knew where he could find edible plants or where to hide. It was the best thing that had happened to him in almost a year.

He tried not to think of his tired, stiff muscles. He just kept following that light.

Soon Ron arrived at a larger city. The light took him through dark alleys and lonely streets, taking him somewhere he couldn't imagine. The following night they'd come to a house, where the ball of light remained steady behind a bush. Having learned to accept its behaviour at face value, he simply stood there, hiding. He saw a guy come to the house's door and press a button next to it. A woman he barely saw came to it, took the boxes the man handed her and paid him. The guy left and the door closed.

A few moments later, the light moved again and stopped in front of that door. As soon as he reached for it, the light disappeared. Panic seized him for a moment. The light had been his companion for the last several days. Still, if it had disappeared, then he had to have reached the right place. He breathed deep and pressed on the same button he'd seen the other guy do. Instants later, the same woman came to the door.

It was like a blow to the chest. He didn't know who she was or why he'd reacted that way - such nervousness, such... giddiness - but he knew he had to remain still. The way she was pointing her wand to him told him she was scared enough. Ron saw her eyes widen in shock, and his rattled brain fought for words to tell her.

"Please, tell me you know who I am," he found himself saying... and hoping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week things get moving much faster!


	6. The Return

Two loud  _crack_ _s_  filled the room just instants after Hermione had closed the Floo call to Harry's place. She'd called him as soon as she had come down from the bedroom and had taken enough deep breaths to calm her running heart.

"Where is he?" The anxious question came from Harry's voice.

"Where is my brother? I want to see him!" Ginny had been with Harry when Hermione had called him.

"Shh! He's upstairs taking a shower."

She was still in shock. She sat heavily on a chair, needing a little time to settle herself.

"I can't believe it... Ron's back!" Ginny said, a smile splitting her face. "Did he tell you where he's been? How's he?"

"He's malnourished." In denial, Hermione opted to only answer the last question. To her horror, Hermione realised her eyes had filled with tears at the thought of Ron being amnesic. "Oh, Merlin... I'd never seen him this way."

Harry and Ginny sat on the kitchen chairs, too, and looked at her.

"It's worse than when we were searching for the Horcruxes, Harry. His skin is taut around his bones, which are also poking through his clothes. He looks... he looks like a walking skeleton," she commented, her voice almost breaking with the last word.

"That's not so bad, considering," Harry replied. "He came back to us; we'll feed him."

"When the door rang, I never expected it to be him. I had asked out loud for him to be back, but who would have thought this time it would work?"

Ginny and Harry looked at each other, wanting desperately to know more about Ron. Still, Hermione didn't feel like she could be anymore coherent than she was being at the moment. She started playing with the boxes still full of food.

"At first I was afraid of him and instinctively wanted to protect myself with my wand but... but then I saw who it was and I just..."

"What did he say? Did he say anything?"

"He said,  _please tell me you know who I am._ "

"What?!" came the response from both Harry and Ginny.

Having told them things chronologically had helped her focus. "I think he lost his memory. I... I didn't know what to do when I heard that. I should have known what to do, but I didn't. I've been hoping for this moment to arrive, and, when it finally did, all I managed to do was to let him in. Eventually, I took him upstairs and offered him the shower." She took another calming breath. "The way he looked at me... his eyes, they're not the same. I don't know what's missing, but they're not the same."

"Those..." Harry looked confused for a moment, not finding strong enough words to describe the Dark Wizards who had damaged Ron's mind. Finally, he pulled himself together. "I guess it's not terribly surprising that he lost his memory," Harry commented. "As terrible as it is, it's what happened to Johnson and Moore. We always knew they used some kind of memory charm."

"That's true," Ginny interrupted, agitated. "But, Hermione... are you sure he doesn't remember who he is?"

"No, I'm not completely sure, but why else would he have asked me to help him remember?"

"No, I don't remember much," came Ron's voice from the kitchen's door. "I was hoping you could help me with that."

* * *

 

Ron had entered the bedroom a little nervously. The woman that had received him was clearly at a loss of what to say or do, but it was obvious she knew who he was. He, on the other side, couldn't say he remembered how he knew her. Still, he felt calm and even content. He didn't know if it was because he  _did_  know her, despite not remembering her, or simply because he seemed to have finally reached the end of a chapter in this journey.

"Here, I think you might want to take a shower. You look like you've been in the open for weeks."

"I have," he simply replied.

"Right," she said, going to the closet. He saw her hands were trembling as she opened the doors. "There are towels in the cabinet inside the bathroom. There should be a spare toothbrush under the sink. I'll leave some clothes on the bed for you."

Ron realised she was taking men's clothes out. Surely they weren't his, right? He stepped closer to the clothes and fingered them, wondering.

"I never stored them away. I just..."

He looked at her. He was surprised to see how close to him she was standing. He didn't know if it was for the lack of human interaction he had suffered in the last year or simply because he was too weak, but he felt his insides go to mush at the sight of her. Her eyes looked at him with a brightness that made him wish he could, maybe, just...

"Go on, take that shower," she said, stepping away. "I'll be in the kitchen downstairs when you're done."

"Okay," he said, as unsure of what he should say or do as she seemed to be.

He went to the bathroom and closed the door behind him; the tiredness he'd managed to ignore before was now creeping over him. He took his clothes off and left them on a pile on the floor. He hoped he would never have to see them again.

He stepped into the shower and opened the tap. The hot water fell on his chest like a welcomed perfection of relief. He sighed with pleasure, enjoying the warm and relaxing sensations on his skin. He submerged his head under the spray, allowing for yet another sigh. He hadn't been allowed to clean himself for more than five minutes once a week with two buckets of water.

He took the bar of soap and created a rich lather between his hands. The water ran muddy down the drain, taking away weeks of dirt from his skin. He washed his hair, and then did it all over again. Several minutes passed in which he simply allowed the water to fall down over his back. Then, deciding it had been long enough, he turned off the water and took a towel to dry off. Once that was achieved, he realised he'd have to go out of the bathroom with the towel around his protruding hips to get to his clothes. He didn't know why, but he didn't want the woman to see him this way.

She had said she'd be waiting in the kitchen. Hoping she was still downstairs, he opened the bathroom door and peeked outside. No one seemed to be in the bedroom; he gripped the towel around him more firmly and stepped out. When he was certain there was nobody there, he walked to the bed and handled the clothes she'd left for him. They seemed to be his size, and somehow that made him feel really comfortable once he'd tried them on.

Were they really his clothes? And if so, how came she'd had his clothes? Had they been living together? The possibility came as a shock to him. He didn't remember a single thing previous to his waking up in that bloody dark room; it could perfectly be true. Trying to find an answer, he went to the closet where he'd seen that the clothes had been stored. As he opened it he realised there was a lot of male clothes, presumably his. Next to them, there were lots of female clothes.

_Right._  She didn't look like she could be his sister. She must have been at least his girlfriend... or maybe more.

He quickly closed the door, feeling his stomach sinking to the floor. He suspected he was right, and it made the loss of his memory even worse.. The bluish light that had brought him here had taking him back to his former romantic partner... yet he had no one recollection of her being in his life. At least, he was certain now that the light had brought him to the right place. Maybe it was time he went down and, with her help, tried to figure all of this out.

He went out of the bedroom and down the stairs. He heard several voices coming from the kitchen, but didn't quite make out what they were saying until he was standing right under the door to it.

"Hermione... are you sure he doesn't remember who he is?" a girl that looked remarkably like him, redheaded and freckled, asked.

"No, I'm not completely sure, but why else would he have asked me to help him remember?"

"No, I don't remember much," Ron said. "I was hoping you could help me with that."

Next thing he knew, the freckled girl was hugging him fiercely.

"Oh, Ron! Oh, Merlin, you're back!"

He felt obliged to hug her back. As soon he did, he felt better than he had expected.

"So my name isRon, huh?"

When the girl grew apart from him so she could take a look at him, Ron realised her eyes were full of tears.

"Yes, it is. Though you also respond to  _tosser_."

He laughed at that. "You're my sister, right?"

"You remember?!"

He was sorry he'd asked that when he saw the unmistakeable hope in her eyes. He hated the fact he had to crush it. "No, I'm sorry. But even if I avoided looking myself in the mirror upstairs, I know we look too much alike."

"Yes, you two are siblings," the guy in glasses standing close to them said. "You also have other another four bothers."

Ron smiled. "You... you're not one of them, right?"

The guy let out a nervous laugh. "Oh, no. I'm Harry, and I'm your best friend. But you're more like my brother, though."

Harry walked slowly to him, and put his hand on Ron's shoulder. "I'm so happy you're back," he said. And then, a little hesitant and hoping it wouldn't make Ron uncomfortable, he warmly hugged him.

Ron let go of his sister and looked at the woman they'd called Hermione. He wouldn't know it, but he stared at her with what seemed a lot like expectation.

"I'm Hermione. I'm..." Ron noticed she looked nervously at Harry. "I was..."

"We lived together, didn't we?"

Three pairs of eyes rested on Ron, all looking surprised.

"I'm sorry, I... I looked in the closet. I saw our clothes together and drew conclusions, I..."

"Yes. We were together before you disappeared."

He didn't know why he felt the need to ask for forgiveness, but he did. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

She came close to him and hugged him. This time he didn't hesitate in putting his arms around her.

"You're back now, that's all that matters."

A few moments later, she let go of him, avoiding his eyes. She offered him a chair and, when he smelled the food on the boxes, his stomach growled shamefully.

"Oh, I'm sorry... you must be awfully hungry. Shall I heat some of this?" Hermione asked, taking the food out of the boxes and busying herself in making it edible again.

"Meanwhile, could you could tell us what you remember... if you're up to it?" Harry asked.

And Ron told them all he knew.

"That night I was hiding in a cave," he said, eating in between sentences, starved. "I was cold and frustrated, so I decided to take a chance and try to make a fire. I had a wand; I knew there had to be some kind of spell to make fire appear, but I didn't remember how to do it.

"So," he continued after swallowing another bite. "I decided to try on the lighter I'd taken from the house I was being held at. It hadn't worked the first time I tried it, but I'd hope that maybe this time it would. It didn't work, but a voice came from it."

"What?!" the three of them said at the same time.

Ron looked at them in turns, and saw them staring at each other.

"It must have been the Deluminator," Harry said.

"What happened then?" Hermione asked.

"Then a light appeared, and I-"

"Yes! It must have been the Deluminator!" Hermione said.

"I didn't know you had it with you, Ron," Harry said. "Do you still have it?"

"I have no idea what you two are talking about, but yeah... it must be in the pocket of my trousers. They're in a heap on the bathroom floor."

"Well," Ginny commented as Hermione got up to go look for it. "At least we know that, deep inside, you're still the same Ron. Really, a heap on the bathroom floor?"

"Ginny," Harry said, smiling, "he just got back. Can't you wait till he's on his feet again before teasing him?"

"No, I can't. He's my brother, and I'm happy to see him."

"Way of showing it, sister," Ron snickered.

"See?" Ginny asked, looking at Harry. "That was all Ron. It'll make him remember faster if we treat him like we always have."

"Yeah, you might have a point there," Harry admitted as Hermione came back.

"It  _was_  the Deluminator, look!"

They passed the little silver thing between them. "So, what's a Deluminator?" Ron asked.

" _The_  Deluminator. There's no other one. Dumbledore gave it to you."

"Who's Dumbledore?" Ron asked again, confused.

"If you don't mind," Harry said, "that's a long enough story for several years of storytelling. We'll tell you all about it later. Could you finish your story first?"

Ron wanted to make sense of things as much as they did, but he accepted to satisfy their curiosity first. "Then a light came out, and I followed it. Eventually it brought me here. That's all that's left to the story."

Ron saw them looking at each other again.

"What did the voice say, Ron?" Hermione asked.

"It said,  _I wish Ron was back already_. I suspected it was my name, but..."

"Oh, I remember that day!" she interrupted him. "Harry and I were in the pub, talking. I said that."

"But we've said his name several times. How come he never heard any of us before?" Harry countered.

"The Dark Wizards had the Deluminator first. They must have heard the voices, but they couldn't have known what it meant or what to do with it. Or maybe they didn't even hear the voices; maybe it only works with Ron."

"Yeah," Ginny said. "According to Ron's timeline, it could possibly be that we didn't mention his name between the day he escaped and that day you two met in that pub. We didn't meet much on those days. It could be."

"And when the light appeared," Hermione continued, "it must have known Ron wouldn't know how to Apparate."

Ron had finished his food as they'd been discussing the Deluminator. He felt ashamed of it, but the exhaustion he'd felt before taking the shower came back with full force. He could feel his eyes dropping, and his muscles going lack with the stress of the last few days, of the last few hours.

Hermione was the first to notice.

"Oh, of course you'd be tired. Do you want to go to sleep?"

He said yes with a nod. He didn't think to question the fact that Hermione took him to the main bedroom. He only knew he needed to sleep and, slipping under the covers, he fell asleep before his head had touched the pillow.

He slept a full day and a half and woke up surrounded by an unidentified, comforting smell that he thought was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm nervous about this part of the plot. Amnesia is such a cliché! I'm trying to keep it fresh, despite how overdone this story device can be. I hope you guys give it a chance :)
> 
> Thanks as always to my dear Pili! You make this story better with all your help <3


	7. St. Mungos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the new content we got this week, this story is not longer canon. This makes me sad. Don't get me wrong; I love having new information and I LOVED that third canon kiss -- but I planned this story to be as close as canon as possible and all of that has been torn to confetti. Oh well. I've been playing with a few scenarios in my head to explain the changes, and maybe those ideas will become a multichapter in the future.
> 
> Thanks as always to my wonderful beta, Pili!

Hermione sat on one of the chairs by the examination room where the Healers where checking Ron. She didn't realise it, but her body showed every sign of anxiety a body could show. Her legs were pressed together, her feet tapping on the floor in a constant, quick, tiring rhythm. Her hands wriggled together on her lap, and her brow furrowed with worry.

Ron had been in that room for two hours, and she didn't think she could stand the wait much longer. She couldn't wait for Ron to have his memory back.

Her mind strayed again to that fateful moment when she'd opened the door to find Ron standing in front of her. She had barely been able to keep herself together when she saw him, when she talked to him; the shock of realising he had lost his memory mingling with the joy of finally having him back with her… by the sight of him back in their bed.

When Ron had fallen asleep, she, Harry, and Ginny had talked for a while about what they should do. They decided they wouldn't tell the rest of the Weasleys, at least not until Ron woke up. Then, they would take him to St. Mungos to have him checked, for the Healers would surely know what to do. The Mediwizards hadn't been able to fix the memories of any of the other Aurors, but this time it would be different, surely? They would be able to fix his memory and whatever else that needed to be fixed.

After all, he simply  _had_  to have several things that needed fixing. Considering everything he had gone through, it would be a miracle if his mind and malnourishment were the only things wrong with him. Still, she marvelled at his strength. He'd survived almost a year of psychological and physical torture, and he'd managed to escape and come back to her… just as he had promised.

"Hermione!" Molly called for her as soon as she had reached the ward. Hermione stood up to receive the fierce hug Molly greeted her with. "Where's Ron? Where's my son? Harry told us the story this morning and we came right away. I can't believe what happened to my little boy," she said with a strangled voice.

"He's not so little anymore, Mum," Ginny said, arriving with Harry, Arthur, and George.

"He'll always be my little boy, Ginny, just like you'll always be my little girl," Molly said turning briefly to her daughter. Then she turned back to Hermione. "Did the Healers recover his memory? Did they cure him?"

"I don't know, Mrs. Weasley. They've been in there for more than two hours, and no one has come out yet."

"Well, I'll ask then. I want to see him."

"Molly, dear, it's best if we just wait. They'll let us know when we're allowed to see him."

"Alright, Arthur, but the wait is killing me. Our son is back! I  _knew_  he wasn't dead!"

Hermione noticed how she sent a victorious glance at George.

"Hey, don't look at me that way! It wasn't me who tried to convince you he wasn't!"

"Well, if you hadn't destroyed the Weasley clock, we would have known for sure, wouldn't we?"

George looked apologetically at his mum, like he always did when the issue came up. "I'm sorry, Mum, you know I am."

"I know," she said, forgiving her son yet again, her hand patting George's cheek. He had viciously attacked the Clock one morning, grieving the loss of his twin. As he would explain to his parents afterwards, it was initially done in defiance at having lost his twin brother. The positive consequence had come afterwards; when he realized he had also destroyed the rest of his family's hands on the clock, it had shown him he still had a family who cared for him. It had opened the gate to his healing, though he was never quite the same again.

Molly let go of George and turned to Hermione again, taking her hands in her own.

"Oh, dear, how are  _you_? It must have been a shock when you opened the door to him this morning."

Hermione tried not to raise her eyebrows in surprise, but couldn't stop herself from looking at Harry for an explanation. He shrugged and mouthed, "It's easier this way."

He was probably right. If Molly knew Ron had been back for almost two days...

"Yes, for a moment I didn't know what to do. I've hoped for this moment for so long, it was hard to believe it had finally happened."

"You should have called me right away, Hermione. You know you should have. But let's not think about that. Let's just wait for him to be released so we can take him back to the Burrow. Harry told me he's malnourished; he'll be needing a good, nutritious meal."

"I thought we would just take him home, Mrs. Weasley. He needs to rest. You're all welcome, of course. We can all go together and have a late lunch."

"Nonsense, he'll be better taken care of with me. I'm his mother. You have your job and-"

"Mum!" Ginny and George said in unison.

"Mrs. Weasley..." Hermione started at the same time.  _No way I'm letting him out of my sight_ , she thought. Instead, she said, "Thank you for your offer, but I think it will be better if we ask his opinion. Once he gets his memory back, he'll be ready to make his own decisions."

She could see Molly hadn't liked her reply, but Hermione wasn't going to bend on this. She only hoped Molly wouldn't hold it against her in the future.

By the small nod she gave her, Hermione knew it was going be okay. "All right, we'll ask him. Knowing Ron, he'll want to be with you. Merlin knows he could never keep away from you long." Molly put a hand on her arm and her eyes softened. "I know this year has been terrible for you. Still, you must understand that I'll want to take care of him, too."

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley. I wouldn't keep him away from you. He loves you, too. You'll always be welcome at our home."

"You can take them food every day, dear," Arthur commented, smiling. "Or even better, you can go and cook there. What about that?" he added, putting an arm around his wife's shoulders.

"Oh, don't you tease me, Arthur Weasley!" she replied, slapping him on the chest.

"Is this a bad time? I can come back later."

"Neville!" Hermione said, and realised others had also said his name in welcome. "How did you know...?"

"Harry," he said, getting closer to all of them.

"I thought I'd tell him, considering how it was his note that saved him."

"It was nothing, really. I didn't do a thing. But I'm glad you told me... It's great news, isn't it? Ron's back!"

"If only the Healers would tell us how he's doing. How long has he been in there?" Ginny asked.

"More than two hours. I can't imagine what's taking them so long."

"Maybe they're trying to make him brighter, too. Noble cause, but probably useless," George said.

Everyone ignored him as the door finally opened behind them.

A Healer came out with a tired and confused expression on her face.

Hermione had expected everyone to start asking questions at the same time. Instead, everyone, including herself, was completely silent; all waiting to hear what the Healer had to say.

"Well... to start off I'd like to tell you that he's healthy now. We had to correct a few problems the malnourishment caused on his bones and internal organs. We also re-grew some of his muscles, which had been consumed during his long months of fasting. Still, he'll need to eat healthy for a while and, if he wants his old body back, he'll have to go back to his old exercise program. Slowly, mind you, he shouldn't overtax himself."

The silence was dense around Hermione. She suspected everyone was as shocked as she was. Everyone had been  _told_ what had happened to Ron; she had seen him with her own eyes. Still, listening to the effect his kidnapping had had on him seemed to make it even worse.

"As for the rest, his body is quite healthy. His mind, though..." The Healer seemed to hesitate. Hermione's heart skipped a beat. When she started talking again, she could hear the confusion and regret in her voice. "I'm really sorry, but we couldn't fix his memory problem."

"What?!"

"No!"

Several outcries arose around her, but Hermione's voice was trapped in her chest. As much as she had tried to convince herself that Ron's case was going to be different, that the Healers were going to figure out a solution for his memory loss, she had been evidently wrong.

"We tried everything we could. Every spell, every counter-spell we know of... we tried everything. Whatever happened to him was different than what happened to the other Aurors. We're able to trace the remnants of several different kinds of spells and curses, some of which we had never seen before. It looks like our healing magic was blocked by scarred tissue, which doesn't make sense. We talked to him and we would like to start researching, seeing him every week to try and figure this out once again. Any questions?"

As the rest of the family started asking questions, Hermione stepped away, needing to get away. She had to figure out what to do or how to deal with the news.

She wasn't really surprised when her steps took her to the room in which Ron had been checked in. Maybe she'd unconsciously planned to go there all along. Maybe she knew she wouldn't be missed, as everyone else was busy interrogating the Healer. No matter how it happened, she went into the room and closed the door behind her.

Ron was doing the last buttons of his shirt. He looked healthier, though still thinner than her last memories of him. She actually had the impression that he looked younger, his body very similar to how he looked back in their school years. But the sad look on his face wasn't at all like his usual expression back then.

She went to him and put a hand on his arm. He didn't look up; instead, he rested his weight on the bed behind him, letting his breath escape in a long sigh.

"This can't be happening, Hermione. I should be able to remember everything by now. The Healers were supposed to cure me, to bring back my memories."

She didn't say anything. She just hugged him, trying to give him the strength they both were going to need.

"It was awful being under so many spells and seeing that none of them worked," Ron continued.

"We'll find a way, Ron. I'll take my long, overdue vacation and, if that's not enough, I'll go on leave. We'll find a way to make it right."

The door opened behind them to let Molly enter the room.

"Oh, Ron!"

Hermione stepped away to give Molly the opportunity to hug her son.

She watched as Ron's mother clung to him fiercely, sobbing quietly into his chest. Hermione's eyes filled with a few tears, empathizing with the joy of having him back.

"Oh, dear," Molly said with a broken voice. Then she put her hands around Ron's face, looking into his eyes. "You're here."

Ron looked uncomfortable, guilt clouding his eyes. Hermione guessed he felt like he should know who was hugging him so lovingly. Certainly, his mother knew him just as well.

"You've always called me mum."

His smile was tentative, his eyes checking with Hermione every few seconds. Then he gathered himself together and smiled more confidently. "Yes, I can believe that I did."

Molly put her arms on her hips, looking like a most alive, plump ginger jar. "And what's  _that_  supposed to mean?"

He just signalled to the top of their heads. "Hair. I'm starting to think it's a distinctive trait."

"Well, you have to go see your father then." Molly put a hand behind his back, leading him out. "Even if you got your hair from both of us, your height can only come from him!"

Ron looked at Hermione once again as he got closer to the door. He turned a little so he could talk to her as he left and said, "You know, Hermione, I can't name a reason why I can suddenly believe that everything is going to be fine, but I do."

His smile had lit his eyes. It was the first time it did, and so she was able to truly believe they'd find a way of getting their old life back.


	8. News and Reports

The next morning, Ron woke up more rested than he remembered ever waking up. Stretching in bed, he wondered if it had anything to do with the excellent food he had had at his family's house the night before. And the company, of course. He found his family to be buoyant, fun, and loving. They not only told him they were happy to see him, they showed it.

With a content feeling over those recent memories, he took a shower and got dressed. He sniffed a wonderful smell coming up the stairs as soon as he stepped out of the bedroom, but he still chose to look at what else was on the second floor: an office, an unfurnished room, and another bathroom. Ron realized, for the first time since he had come to this house, that the place looked like a home of a young family. It meant that Hermione and him had to have had a future planned together.

He barely registered the thought and the shock it caused before he squelched it completely. He simply wasn't feel ready to deal with that just yet. Instead, he went down the stairs and followed the wonderful smell that had reached his nostrils. Breakfast seemed to be an excellent idea, especially when it smelled like that.

He reached the kitchen and opened the door to find his mum close to the stove and Hermione sitting at the table. After last night's dinner, he felt it wasn't quite so awkward to be with people that knew him so well, even if he couldn't really remember them. "Hi, Mum"

"Hi, Ron dear. You woke up just in time. I'm cooking a nurturing breakfast for you."

"Thanks, Mum. Good morning, Hermione."

"Hi, Ron," Hermione replied, looking up from the morning paper.

Ron didn't notice that he'd stared at her just a bit longer than usual. Hermione did, though, and quickly looked down, choosing to focus on the paper.

A  _crack!_  resounded in the kitchen, where Ginny made an appearance. "Merlin, I'm starving!"

Everyone greeted Ginny, who had come to have breakfast with them. Last night they had talked and decided that when Molly was cooking at Ron and Hermione's place, Ginny would sometimes eat with them.

"Anything interesting in the Prophet, dear?" Molly asked, as she set potato patties in front of the trio.

"Well, the news that Ron is back made the front page.  _Auror Weasley Returns; Rumours of Strange Behaviour Plague the Hero_ ," Hermione read aloud.

"Oh, that happened a little faster than I expected," Molly commented, as she set some sausages and eggs on the table. She didn't seem at all concerned with the sensational title. "I suppose someone at St. Mungos decided it would make a good story."

"Excuse me? Hero?  _Strange behaviour_?! How come my coming back made the front page?" Ron asked.

"It was big news when you disappeared, too," Ginny replied.

"How...? Why...?" Ron asked again, confused and a little curious.

Molly sighed. "It's a long and sad story."

"But it could have been much, much worse," said Ginny, as she took a few patties and sausages and put them on her plate. "This is as good a time as any. Where shall we begin?"

Ron did the same, filling his plate with the food his mum had prepared. He saw how the three women in front of them were exchanging looks, until Ginny shrugged her shoulders and said, "You might as well start telling him, Hermione. Just try and make it short." Then, she proceeded to stuff her face with sausages, looking much like her brother.

"There was a boy named Tom Riddle. He grew up to be a very powerful wizard, but sadly he used his abilities to do wrong. He was thirsty for power, quickly rising to be the leader of most Dark Wizards. He changed his name, demanding to be called Lord Voldemort. He craved power, immortality, and envisioned a world where Pure-Bloods would reign over Half-Bloods and Muggles – that's the name we used for non-magical people. Voldemort hated non-magical people, and wizards and witches who were not Pure-Blood."

"We feared that name for so many years," his mum added. "There were two wars fought against him. The first one started when your dad and I were young. Eleven years of constant fear. We fought him and his followers, but didn't quite manage to win; he was too powerful. Still, as ironic as it was, it was the simplicity of a baby and his mother's love for him that finally won that war."

"And that baby," Ginny said with a smile, "was Harry."

"Harry?" Ron repeated, incredulous. "Harry, the same Harry I was talking to last night?"

"The very same," his mum replied. "There was a prophecy, that one of two babies would grow up to defeat Voldemort. He decided the prophecy meant Harry would be that baby, so he tried to kill him. As he attacked Harry, who was just three months old at the time, his mother used her body to protect him. Voldemort didn't know it, but giving your life for someone, out of love, is the strongest magic there is. Voldemort died that night, or so we thought."

"Alright, that's interesting. But how does that connect with me being in the front page of the paper?"

"When Voldemort came back, he tried many times to kill Harry and create the world he so desired so. And here it's where you come into play. You, Harry, and I were best friends at school."

"Yeah, I can see that happening. I like him."

"You two were inseparable," Ginny continued. "You blokes were so close that you ended up being involved in everything that ever happened to him. You and Hermione were by his side throughout the seven years it took to finally defeat Lord Voldemort."

"So, let me see if I'm understanding this right," Ron said with a hint of an incredulous tone in his voice. "Harry defeated one of the most powerful wizards to ever exist, and Hermione and I helped him?"

"Not only us," Hermione replied. "Almost everyone who didn't want his vision of the world to succeed helped. We helped Harry carry out his mission to destroy him, that's all."

Ginny scoffed, but his mum was the one to correct her. "That mission was not as simple as you're trying to make it look. It was difficult, dangerous, and each one of you had something that was needed to achieve the goal the magical community had that was to defeat Voldemort. Ron," she continued, staring at him.

"There's far too many details to the story, and I'm sure with time you'll hear all of it. Besides, you'll get your memory back and trying to explain everything right now won't be necessary. Suffice to say, the three of you were essential to the maintenance of the magical world as we know it today. That meant that when everything was said and done, the three of you became quite popular with the people you helped save. So when you disappeared, it became front-page news, as well as your returning has."

Ron was quiet, trying to absorb all the information he had just been given.

"Take your time," Ginny said. "And if you have any questions, just ask Hermione. She loves giving answers to anything and everything, and she has first-hand information. Gotta go, now," she added as she got up and winked at Hermione, who was rolling her eyes. "I got a grueling Quidditch practice today. See you!"

Ginny kissed her mum on the cheek and left with another loud  _crack_!.

"You two should go, as well," his mum adviced. "They are waiting for you at the Ministry. They want Ron's statement of what happened during these months. They hope it will help find this group of Dark Wizards."

"Are you up for it?" Asked Hermione.

"I suppose I am. I don't know how it'll help, but every small effort counts, right?"

* * *

The contentment he felt when he woke up had lasted only for a little while. After hearing the essentials of his involvement in defeating Voldemort, Ron felt a little off. The story sounded like something you read about, not something you experienced. The fact that people stole glances at them as they walked through the Ministry of Magic only added to his feeling of awkwardness.

"Why can't they stop staring at me?" Ron whispered to Hermione.

"Just ignore them, Ron," she replied. In a move that surprised him, Hermione took his hand and squeezed it to reassure him. Ron looked at her to find her smiling at him. He realized that it did actually make him feel better.

She moved to take her hand away, but Ron held it in his. She looked at him confused and a little shy. "Do you mind?" Ron asked. "It feels nice."

"No," she replied. "I don't mind."

They kept going through the halls until they reached the Auror Department. As soon as they walked in, a series of exclamations could be heard.

"Weasley!"

"He's back!"

"We always knew you were going to return!"

"Ready to go at them, eh, Weasley?!"

Hermione squeezed his hand again, silently acknowledging how strange it must feel for him to be back, and to be greeted by so many people he couldn't remember. She ignored everyone, and instead went directly to Harry's assistant. "Is Auror Potter available? We were meant to meet him here."

"Of course, Miss Granger. He-"

"Hermione! Ron," Harry greeted them as he came out of his office.

"Thank you, Sarah, I'll take it from here."

"Come on in," he said, now talking to Ron and Hermione. "Come to my office first, there's a few things I'd like to talk to you about."

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked Ron, as they sat in front of Harry's desk.

"Yeah, I'm okay. That was weird! Do I know all those people?"

"Yeah, mate. They were quite happy to see you," Harry commented. "Some of them were there with us when you disappeared."

"I don't remember at all. I keep having this feeling of familiarity, but as soon as I try to remember... there's simply nothing there."

"Do you think you're going to be okay trying to remember more details about the time you were imprisoned?" Harry asked.

"If you think it'll help, then yeah." Ron said, shrugging.

"Great! Let me call the Aurors in charge and we can start."

Harry quickly came back with two men, who introduced themselves as John and Duncan.

"I was there when you disappeared," John said. "Harry found me unconscious and brought me back. I really want to catch these guys."

"That's good to hear," Ron replied, with a smile.

"I already told them what I know of your captivity. Do you by any chance remember anything more than what you told me the first night?"

Ron took a moment to try, once again, to recall any details he might have forgotten.

"I can't think of anything, unless you count the description of the Wizards, the plants I saw, and what I remember of the area. Is that of any use?"

"That's excellent!" Hermione commented, excited that Ron had found a way to exercise his memory.

"Yes, that can definitely help," Duncan said. "Why don't we start with a description of the Wizards' faces?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Pili, as always. Next chapter should have some UST, which is something I love.


	9. Within

Ron and Hermione were sitting at a tea shop in Diagon Alley, having a quick meal after their visit to the Ministry. The meeting had felt like it had lasted ages; Ron sharing all the little pieces of information he was able to remember while the Aurors, who were taking notes, organized them into a report. Ron had left the place a little sad and frustrated at the state of his mind.

"I thought we could do something different now," Hermione said, looking for a way to distract him from his thoughts. "What do you think we go get you a new wand?"

"A wand?" Ron asked, perking up on his seat.

"Yes. You took one when you escaped, but it's not yours. I know yours, and this one isn't," she said. "You don't even carry it around. Am I wrong in thinking you don't feel a connection to it?"

"No, you're not wrong," Ron replied. He thought for a few moments and then asked, "Do you think it's a good idea? I don't know how to do magic anymore."

"Don't be silly," Hermione replied, trying to encourage him. "You haven't lost your magic. I'll just remind you of the spells you don't remember, for now. And then we just need to practice, and for that we'll need a wand."

This new plan excited Ron. They quickly finished their meal at the tea shop and made their way to Ollivanders. A bell rang as they opened the door, announcing their arrival.

"Miss Granger! It has been some time since I've seen you, darling girl! You too, Mr. Weasley! Why, it must have been at Shell Cottage that I last laid eyes on you two," Mr. Ollivander said.

Ron looked at the old guy with curiosity, noting the now familiar pang of almost-recognition. He noticed how his wrinkled, thin-skinned face had a parchment quality to it, and tried - but failed - to put a name to it.

"Mr. Ollivander! I didn't know you still ran this place!" Hermione said, notably surprised.

"Oh, I won't retire until I'm a hundred years old, and for that there's still a few years to go. I do have an apprentice now; wandlore is a tricky science, and my successor will need much study and practice if he wants to replace me."

"Here…" Mr. Ollivander said, calling for the young wizard that was standing in the shadows of the shop.

Turning back to Hermione, he added, "This is Felix, my grandson. He will help us today. Surely you're here looking for a wand? For whom, may I ask?"

"For me," Ron said. "I lost mine."

"Yes, yes, I have heard of your return. You say you do not have a wand?"

"No, I don't think I do."

"Interesting!" Ollivander exclaimed. "Was it broken?"

"I don't know," Ron replied, frustrated once again at how little he knew. "When I woke up, I didn't have a wand with me. When I escaped I took one, but I don't feel like it belongs to me."

"It's not the wand he was using before he was captured," Hermione added. "Until then, he was using the wand he won from Peter Pettigrew, which was a-"

"Chestnut, dragon heartstring core, 9 and ¼ inches."

"Exactly," said Hermione, amused at his perfect recollection.

"Well, that was not a perfect match, by any means. Did it work well for you?"

Ron looked at Hermione, expecting her to reply for him. He didn't know the answer to anything he was being asked.

"He never complained about it," was all Hermione said.

"Well, well, that is of little significance now. We shall find one that is a perfect fit for you."

"Go on, now," Mr. Ollivander told Felix. "Let's see what you can find."

After taking Ron's measurements, Felix disappeared between the rows of shelves containing piles of boxes. He returned with a few of those rectangular-shaped boxes and offered the first one to Mr. Ollivander.

"Try this one, Mr. Weasley," said the wand maker.

They tried a few wands, but Ollivander didn't seem to be happy with any of them. Suddenly, he took one of the few remaining ones on the table and exclaimed, "But what is this? Could it be...?" The wizard looked at the wand for a few moments, and then stared at Ron. Not saying a word, he gave Ron the wand he held in his hand and looked closely at him.

Ron felt self-conscious for a second, but as soon as he held the wand in his hand it seemed that everything around him disappeared. A warm feeling shot up his arm, and, just as a quick, a short jet of light came out the wand's point.

Everyone exclaimed in surprise, especially Mr. Ollivander. "But this is unexpected! I did not make this wand, you see. It's the work of Mykew Gregorovitch. The story of how it came to my hands is a long one, more suited for an evening by the fire than during a transaction at my shop. Nevertheless, this is clearly your wand, Mr. Weasley. It has chosen you."

"What is it made of?" Ron asked, still amazed at the connection he felt towards his new wand.

"Linden, with a core of unicorn hair, fourteen and a half inches. I had never sold a wand I did not make before, but it is obviously the perfect match. Your desire to heal and defeat the Dark Magic that was used on you has been recognized by your new wand. If I were you, I would go and start doing magic with it."

* * *

 

Hermione Apparated them into their house. Molly had long been gone, so they were alone.

"Do you want to try a few spells?" Hermione asked.

"Sure," Ron said, trying to hide his excitement.

They sat on the sofa, Hermione clearing away some books and that day's newspaper off the coffee table. Then, they sat with their wands at the ready.

"Let's start with some simple stuff. Let's try the Summoning Charm.  _Accio_  glass!" exclaimed Hermione, and right away glass flew from the kitchen to the table in front of them. "Now, you try."

" _Accio!_ " Nothing happened. " _ACCIO!_ "

"Don't forget to mention what is it you want to get, Ron." Hermione suggested, a small smile on her lips.

"Oh, right," Ron said. He realised he had been looking at Hermione's lips, causing the tips of his ears to go red with embarrassment more because of it than because of his simple mistake. " _Accio_  glass!"

"Well done!" Hermione exclaimed. She squeezed Ron's knee, meaning to congratulate him. Ron, who had suddenly become very self-conscious and very aware of her proximity, found the gesture to be distracting.

"Now, since we have the glasses here, we'll try something else." She pointed her wand at the glass, then, slightly breathless with excitement, said, " _Aguamenti_."

Ron repeated the spells she showed him, finding it hard to concentrate. Feeling magic course through him felt amazing; his heart was beating fast and his breathing was quick. He felt slightly awestruck, and the way Hermione's eyes were shining was only making it worse. She looked beautiful, and her enthusiasm was endearing.

"Can you remember any spells, Ron?" she said, a hopeful tone in her voice.

He tried. He really wanted to impress her. He closed his eyes, as if by doing so his brain would work better.

Hermione tore a piece off one of the newspaper's pages and put it in front of them. "How about you try to levitate that piece of paper?"

He pointed the wand to it, and tried to think of the words to say. The paper stirred, but remained on the table.

"Did you see that?!" Hermione asked. "Try again."

He did. The piece of paper shifted a little bit, one corner slightly lifting off the wooden surface.

"Merlin, you did it!" Hermione flung herself to Ron's arms.

He put his arms around her instinctively. Her smell filled his nose, its familiarity hitting him on the stomach and causing his heart to flutter with emotions. With her arms still around his neck, she looked at him with slight confusion in her eyes. It seemed she was as surprised at her impulsive reaction as he was.

"I think it must have been the wind, Hermione," Ron said, Hermione still in his arms. "I didn't remember any words."

"It's  _Wingardium Leviosa_ ," Hermione replied in almost a whisper. "Levitation charm."

" _Wingardium Levi-OH-sa,_ " He repeated, imitating her intonation while looking at her lips. Ron felt like time was moving slowly, and all his attention was focused on her. Having her close like this felt right. "Do you think it will help my memory if I kiss you? I really want to kiss you."

"Are we still together, then?" she questioned him, her voice soft but serious, startling Ron out of the moment.

"What do you mean?" he asked, watching as Hermione moved out of his arms and sat next to him on the sofa.

"You have been back for three days, but it has not been like this before."

"Well, I have no way of knowing that, do I?" Ron said, slightly cross. "You haven't said anything."

"Neither have you."

"Look, I'm sorry. If you don't want me to kiss you, I won't," Ron offered, trying not to think of the hurt it caused him to say it.

"But I do want you to kiss me! I've been wanting a kiss from you for the past year."

"Well, there isn't much I can do about that, is there?"

"I don't want us to fight, Ron. I just want to talk about this."

He let out a frustrated sigh. He didn't want to fight with her either. "Alright. Let's talk about it, then. Why don't you tell me what I need to know about us? I realized we were living together when I came back; I looked in the closet and I saw my stuff. Does the ring on your finger..." Ron couldn't finish the question.

"Yes, we were living together. We were going to get married."

As big as the news was, Ron wasn't surprised at her answer. "I must have been very much in love with you before."

Hermione's eyes shone with pain, but she was trying hard not to show it. "So you don't love me anymore," she stated.

"No!" Ron said, slightly panicked. He got closer to Hermione, trying to find the right words to say that would make her feel better. "I mean, I'm sure I do! I just... Well, I..."

"It's okay, I understand. It's been a long time, and everything you've experienced must have changed what you felt, I think that-"

"No, no, you don't understand," Ron interrupted her. "Yes, it's been a long time, and I experienced a lot of things, but I do feel something for you. I just... I think I'm still in shock, maybe a little overwhelmed by everything. It's not been easy, Hermione. But if I had planned to marry you, I'm sure that love is still there... It  _is_  there, I just... I just need to settle into it, along with everything else I'm missing."

"You're right. I'm being selfish. You lost your memory, and here I am worried about what that means for us."

"Don't think like that. I think it's normal to want to know what to do with your life."

And just as suddenly as he had said the words, a thought came to Ron's mind. "Maybe  _you_ don't want to be with me anymore; maybe you want to see other blokes... or maybe you were seeing someone, and I interrupted?" Ron held his breath, scared of what he might hear next.

This whole conversation seemed strange; it seemed like neither of them knew quite how to approach the subject of their relationship. After being apart for so long, maybe there simply was nothing between them anymore. Still, Ron knew that, deep down, he would be incredibly upset and jealous if Hermione said she would rather be with someone else.

"No! No, I wasn't seeing anyone. And I don't want to see anyone else, either."

"So you never saw anyone while I was gone?"

"Well... I... yes, I did," Hermione replied, guilt all over her face. "I went out on a date, twice. I was feeling pressured to do it, and I needed to know. I needed to give it a try, so that I could  _say_  I had tried, because I  _knew_  I didn't want to date anyone else. You were gone, and I didn't know if you would ever be back, but I wanted to wait... it's just... I shouldn't have listened. I should have kept my ground and waited."

Ron felt hollowness fill his chest. "I shouldn't have asked," he finally said. He wanted to be angry at her; he wanted to be overcome with jealousy so that he could let out all his frustrations through a heated row. Still, all he felt was desolation and fear that, somehow, it was all his fault for having been gone; that it was all his fault for not being the Ron she needed when he had returned. "We're not doing a good job of talking about this, are we?"

Hermione let out a relieved sigh. She must have been waiting for an explosion, too. "No, we're not. It feels like when we were teenagers, having problems to say what we really mean."

Ron slumped on the couch, mad at himself and at the situation. "This is so bloody unfair."

"Do you want to see other girls?"

"No!"

"Good. I don't want to see other men. That's a start," she said, trying to look Ron in the eyes.

He smiled at her, thankful for her effort. "That's a start, yeah."

"Maybe we don't have to go back and pick up right where we left off. Why don't we see how things go? There's so much going on; I think we both need time to adapt to being together again."

"Maybe, yeah."

"I'm sure we'll make it work, Ron. I'm sure we'll get your memory back, and when we do, everything is going to fall into place. I know it".

Ron nodded his head in agreement, because he knew that if he talked, he would voice doubts instead. What would happen if he  _didn't_ get his memory back?


	10. Hogwarts

After talking about their relationship and reaching a sort of agreement, Ron expected things to be easier. He was wrong. Now, he had become even more aware of the way he felt about Hermione.

It was so strange to feel things for her and yet to have no memories to back up those feelings. He decided that must explain it; it was the disconnect between his emotions and his brain that caused the awkwardness with Hermione.

He got out of the shower, wrapped the towel around his hips, and got out of the bathroom to get dressed. As soon as he was ready, he went downstairs in search for breakfast.

"Good morning, Hermione," he greeted her when he saw her standing in the kitchen, a cup of tea in her hands.

"Hi," she replied, smiling.

Ron looked around, trying to see if there was anything edible at hand. He didn't want to ask her and appear as if he expected her to cook for him. His stomach made a growling sound, making it painfully obvious how hungry he was.

"So, I have an idea of what we can do today."

"You do?" asked Ron distractedly, still thinking of food. "Is mum coming to make breakfast?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "And to think that in the past couple of years, you had become quite the cook. No, she's not coming."

"I can cook?" Ron asked, trying to decide if he could maybe make breakfast himself.

"Yes, you can. You love eating, so you figured no one better than you to satisfy your appetite. I was happy about that, too," Hermione continued, as she set her cup on the counter. "I can cook, but nothing fancy like you learned to do. And it's always nice to come home to your fiancé making you dinner."

Another sound came from him, even louder this time. Hermione took pity of him. She opened the fridge and took an apple out, handing it to him. Ron stared at the fruit, wondering how to return it to the fridge without looking like an ass.

"You're starving, even more than usual," she said, trying to hide a smile. "Well, you need to recover, so you're lucky we had that apple."

"Lucky?" He asked, looking from the apple to Hermione. She laughed.

"Merlin, Ron, you look despaired! That's just to hold you over for a little while. We're going to your mum's place right now."

Ron let out a sigh of relief. "So, how about you tell me all about your idea as we eat breakfast?"

Soon they had Apparated to The Burrow.

* * *

Hermione's plan for the day sounded like fun, in Ron's opinion. She had put together a little trip to Hogwarts for the day, and he was really excited to go and take a look around. Maybe, this time, it would spark some kind of recognition in him.

As soon as they had reached The Burrow, Ron and Hermione had breakfast with Arthur and Molly. Then, they stood by the old oil lamp that would take them to Hogwarts and waited for the Portkey to be ready.

"There are some perks to working in the Ministry," Arthur said. "And in knowing the Headmistress of Hogwarts! Not everyone gets to go there for a visit like this."

"Don't worry if you feel slightly queasy as you travel by Portkey," Molly had added, unable to stop mothering Ron. She started fiddling with his clothes and hair. "It only lasts a few moments and-"

"I'll be fine," Ron interrupted, feeling slightly awkward with all the patting. He was a grown man, after all.

"It's glowing, we should go. See you later!" Hermione announced, and without further to do, Ron echoed her goodbyes and they both took the Portkey to their old school.

The world spun around him for a few moments, but Ron was determined to not feel sick. Still, he was thankful when it stopped, and he found himself in a large, circular office. A multitude of voices started exclaiming at once, most of them coming from the many portraits covering the walls.

"Miss Granger! Mr. Weasley! It's good to see you," a woman told them. She was wearing interesting looking clothes and a pointy hat.

"Hedmistress McGonagall," Hermione said, evidently happy. "We're so thankful that you've made an exception and allowed us to come."

"Welcome, welcome!" one of the portraits was saying.

"Please, feel at home!" another one echoed.

"Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley, it's been a few years since I last saw you," the painting of an old man, with long beard and spectacles, greeted them.

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said. "I'm glad to see you awake."

"Of course we are! We didn't want to miss your visit!"

"Well, well, let them be," McGonagall interrupted before many more portraits could speak. "We're just waiting for- this must be him. Come in," McGonagall exclaimed in answer to a knock at the door.

"Excuse me, Professor McGonagall, you called?"

"Professor Longbottom, yes I did. As you can see, our visitors are here."

"I'm glad to see you," Neville told them as he hugged Hermione. Then he extended a hand towards Ron, which he shook. "Are you doing okay?"

"I am," Ron replied, smiling. "All things considered."

"I hope that your visit today helps you, Mr. Weasley. Mr. Longbottom is going to take care of you while you remain inside Hogwarts. I'll see you at five for your returning Portkey."

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall," Ron said as they left the office.

While Hermione and Neville shared some small talk, Ron tried to pay attention to the castle. He tried to imagine himself there, going to classes and spending time with his friends. He tried to envision a past where the halls they were walking through were full of students, and where him, Harry, and Hermione would try to figure out ways to defeat a villain.

It still felt surreal to him. Not having memories to recall, to not know how you became to be who you are, was challenging in so many ways. As they reached Gryffindor Tower, and Neville and Hermione told him stories of different adventures they had shared there, he wondered if he would ever feel connected to any place again. He wanted to feel like he belonged, like he was indeed the same person they referred to in the recounts of their shared past. He couldn't wait to be himself once more.

They left the tower and visited the Room of Requirement, where the stories of fiendfyre and tiaras sounded like fairytales. It certainly explained why so many of the students they came across stared at them in bewilderment, accentuating his feeling of detachment. Did he really have it in him, to do all those incredible acts of heroism?

They finished the first part of the tour in the Great Hall; it mostly empty since it was the end of lunch hour. There, they sat at the end of one of the tables and shared a meal together.

"I hope we're not taking up much of your time, Neville," Hermione commented as she put some food on her plate. "You must be very busy, now that you're a professor here. How long has it been, a full year now?"

"Yes, I just started my second year here. It's been incredible! But to answer your question, don't worry one bit. I cleared my morning schedule to see you both. Right after lunch I have a couple of classes to teach, so I thought you could visit the Quidditch pitch while I'm busy. I'm sure Ron is going to love it."

"Will I?" Ron asked, curious.

"Oh, yeah, you will," Neville replied between bites. "You were the Keeper for our team back then when we were students."

"Were you two in the team too?"

"No. Neither one of us is very good on a broom."

"You used to love it," Hermione said, wistfully. "You would spend hours practicing, which meant you ignored many of your other assignments in favour of Quidditch practice."

"Did I," said Ron, amused. "Was I a poor student?"

"No," Hermione answered. "But you could have been so much better, if only you had applied yourself."

"Were  _you_  a good student, then?" Ron teased her, only to hear a loud snort from Neville.

"The best! She was always top of our class. She was always busy reading or writing something; so much so, that some of our classmates were convinced she was doing yours and Harry's homework as well."

"I never!" Hermione countered, flustered, her food forgotten on her plate. "I mean I did help them, sometimes more than they deserved, but they always had to do most of it."

"Even Ron? We always knew you had a soft spot for him."

Ron looked at Hermione, to see her blushing slightly. He found he really liked seeing when she blushed, and it felt good to know she might have helped him a bit more than she did Harry.

"You don't have to answer," said Neville with a smile. "Did you ever hear about the bet?"

The bet? What bet?!" Hermione asked, slightly scandalized. Ron, on the other side, was feeling more and more amused by the minute.

"It was mostly Seamus and Dean, but there were other Gryffindors involved." He turned to Ron, and added, "The five of us used to share a dormitory, you see. And they both had an ongoing bet about when you two would get together."

"Are you serious?" Hermione asked, slightly put off. "We were never that obvious!"

Neville laughed. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to upset you. I thought you knew."

"But  _were_ we obvious?" Ron wanted to know. He was thoroughly enjoying seeing her like this, offended that they had been the target of curious teenagers. It made him think that she really cherished their story, making him wish he knew every detail of how he came to be so lucky to have her fall in love with him.

"I would say that if you spent enough time with you two and didn't guess how much you fancied each other, then you were not observant at all. You spent all your time together, whether Harry was there or not. But most of all it was the bickering and the jealousy. You should have seen Seamus imitate you two!"

"I can't believe what I'm hearing," Hermione complained.

"If you ask me," Ron said, "I'm just glad not to be the only one hearing this story for the first time, this once at least."

She smiled at him, resting her hand on his knee. "I'm sorry I reacted this way. I still get upset when people tell us we should have gotten together sooner. Our story may not be perfect, but it's ours and I wouldn't change any of it."

Seeing Hermione so proud of how relationship had evolved erased all sense of amusement in the story. He suddenly felt melancholic for the lives they used to have, and that he didn't know anymore. He fervently wished he could turn back the time, and somehow prevent whatever had erased his memories.

"Not even the past year? Wouldn't you want to change it?" Ron asked, unable to stop himself. "I would."

"I'm sorry," Neville said, serious now as well. "I didn't mean to cause this."

"It's alright, Neville, really. I know you meant well."

"Why don't we go to the Quidditch pitch," Ron suggested, wanting to do something that would make him feel better. "Let's take a walk and talk some more. I'm sure Neville doesn't mind."

"Actually, it works well for me, too. I have to go now. See you guys later!"

"See you," both Hermione and Ron replied, as they all got up and went their own ways.

"Poor Neville," Ron commented, still feeling nostalgic. "I think he didn't expect the conversation to go that way."

"Yes, I know. It's alright, I'll talk to him later."

They came out of the castle and started to walk towards the field.

"Were we that bad, though?"

Not  _that_  bad, I don't think. We were teenagers and we had a  _lot_ of maturing to do. We made mistakes. We spent a lot of time trying to make each other jealous and doubting ourselves, so that we never really talked about how we felt."

"But we got together, eventually." Ron looked at her, noticing the way the breeze was messing her hair. He would have loved to reach out and tuck her hair behind her ear. He almost did, but he still felt shy about initiating any kind of contact after his failed attempt to kiss her.

"We did. It was the night of the final battle, here in Hogwarts."

"Here?" Ron asked, turning to look at the castle behind them with new eyes.

"Yes. You wanted to warn the House-elves and tell them to escape," she answered and then laughed. "Looking back, it doesn't sound all that romantic. But when you mentioned the elves, I just had to kiss you. It showed me that what had once been important only to me was now important to you, too. You listened to me, and that, added to not knowing whether we were going to survive or not..." She sighed. "Well, I just...  _had_  to kiss you, if only once."

"I must have been pretty clueless, then. If all I had to do was listen to you, then how come I didn't get you to kiss me sooner?" Ron shook his head. "Please tell me I got better."

"We both got better," Hermione replied, "I wasn't perfect, either. We've been through so much, and we have been together for five years now. There's been many fights, and conversations, and a lot of learning from both of us. We still fight, and we still bicker, but it's a lot easier. The learning curve has been steep, but I think we're both better people for it."

They reached the Quidditch pitch, and Ron looked at it in amazement.

"I wish I remembered, Hermione. I want to remember everything; how we got together and everything that happened before and after that. I want to know all those things, and also all the small, simple details, like how much I fancy this game. George was telling me all about it the other day."

"Do you want to fly?"

"Do you think I can?"

"We won't know until we try," she countered, a glint in her eye. "Let's see if we can find a broom." They checked the locker rooms for stray brooms. They were about to lose hope, when a group of students walked in.

It was pretty easy to convince them to lend Ron a broom. The student who lent them the broom were slightly star struck, having heard all about Harry Potter's friends. Ron and Hermione found the whole situation hilarious, and had fun despite all the attention.

Ron enjoyed himself thoroughly. The feel of the wind on his face was rejuvenating, and the acrobatics he was soon able to do were exhilarating. He even got Hermione to fly with him, giving him the opportunity to enjoy the feel of her close to him.

It was the closest they had been since he had been back. He could feel the shape of her as he held her in place, and even though she had tied her hair in a knot, lose strands kept tickling his nose. He inhaled deeply to feel her smell again, and this time, it was like a punch to the stomach. It was the same smell he had felt the very first morning he was back, and the same smell that had reminded him of home.

He was still thinking of this revelation as they walked back to the castle to meet Neville and head back to McGonagall's office. When he had woken up that first day back, it had been  _her_ scent that had welcomed him. It wasn't only the certainty that he  _knew_  and  _loved_ that smell, but the realisation that if he had felt it at all was because it was supposed to be Hermione's bed as well. Only that she hadn't been sharing it with him the past few nights.

"Hermione?" He asked. "I can't believe I only noticed this now, but... I've been sleeping in our room."

"Uhm... yes?" Hermione answered, not knowing what Ron meant.

"Where have  _you_  been sleeping, then?"

"Oh," she said, getting a little shy. " Uhm, well... on the sofa."

"The sofa?!"

"Yes," she replied, this time her voice steeling. She was getting ready to defend her choices.

"Why on Merlin's beard would you sleep on the sofa?"

"Hi, guys! Are you ready to go?" Neville asked, a dubious look on his face. He had notice they were arguing.

"Yes, Neville, thank you," Hermione said, ignoring Ron.

"But... No, that's unfair. If anything, I should be the one sleeping on the sofa." "You need your rest more than I do."

"This time, the Portkey will take you directly to your place," Neville added, slightly uncomfortable to be witnessing what was obviously a domestic discussion.

"That's balmy. I'll sleep on the sofa tonight."

"We'll talk more when we get home," Hermione tried to stop the conversation.

"Thanks for everything, Neville."

"No problem. Professor McGonagall had a sudden responsibility to attend to. She's sorry she can't say goodbye, and wishes the very best for your recovery, Ron."

"Hermione, don't think I'll let the issue rest. I feel like a git that I hadn't noticed until now."

"Tell Headmistress McGonagall we're very thankful, Neville, please."

"I will," he replied as they reached the office. "She said she'll let you know if the Professor Against the Dark Arts finds anything that might be of help for your research."

"Research? What research? Hermione, we really need to talk,"

"We will, Ron, now will you calm down?"

"It's glowing!" Neville announced.

Frustrated, Ron stared at Hermione as if that would get his point across. He held the Portkey alongside Hermione, ready to jump into an argument as soon as they arrive home.

But everything he had wanted to say died in his throat once they got home and found it had been wrecked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Pili for her thoughtful, accurate beta work, as always. Thanks also to musingmarauder at FFN for pointing out a mistake I made in ch. 8 - Will correct it a.s.a.p.!


	11. Intrusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, real life. It tends to take priority with me, especially when it concerns my little baby and now my graduate studies. Okay, the husband, too, LOL.
> 
> I am planning to finish this story. I have all of the story mapped out, and only need to finish writing the remaining four chapters. I should have more time to write in the next few weeks, and I intend to make good use of it.
> 
> Thanks forever and ever to Pili for being my beta extraordinaire. Thanks also to those who take the time to leave a review, for they make me happy :) The follows are a nice little thing, too!

Ron and Hermione took their wands out instinctively. They looked at each other silently, knowing that whoever had done the damage could still be in there. It took them almost an hour to search the house, stopping only when they were sure that they were in fact alone.

Hermione turned on the lights and put up strong wards, some of which she hadn't felt the need to use since the war. She wanted to make sure they would be safe for as long as they stayed there.

"Alright, what the hell happened here?" Ron asked, lifting a drawer that was upturned in the middle of the living room.

"It's obvious, isn't it?"

She couldn't see, but he rolled his eyes. "It was a rhetorical question, Hermione. Our house was broken into."

"This couldn't have been done by Muggle thieves. Even with only the basic wards, Muggles wouldn't have been able to cross them. It must have been wizards."

"I think you know as well as I do that these must have been the same wizards who took me."

"What did they want, though?" She looked around, trying to judge if anything was missing. "It doesn't look like they took anything, just trashed it."

They went through their house, looking at the damage and checking that everything was in fact still there.

"Maybe I know more than I think about who they are and what they want. Maybe they're trying to scare us?"

"Yes, it could be that."

They looked at each other at a loss of what to do.

"I don't think we can put everything in place right now," Hermione finally stated.

"I don't think so, either, and I'm pretty tired. But I think tomorrow we should look for clues they might have left behind."

"Good point. I'll call Harry and see if we can crash in his place tonight."

After a quick call to Harry by Floo, Hermione and Ron gathered what they needed to spend the night away. Then, without much ceremony, Ron took some Floo powder, threw it to the fire, and stepped in. He disappeared between green flames and smoke.

Hermione froze. For the first time in the few days since he'd been back, Ron did magic automatically, without needing someone to explain to him what to do.

She checked again the wards and got ready to travel to Harry's house, hope growing in her heart. Maybe his memories were getting closer to the surface now. Maybe, it wouldn't be long until Ron was back to her.

* * *

Hermione stepped out of the fireplace, dusting ash from her shoulder. As soon as she looked up, she could see Ron standing, with a puzzled face and his arms crossed, in front of Harry. Ginny was standing next to Harry... in her pajamas.

"When were you going to tell me that you two are living together?" Ron demanded.

"Oh, please, Ron," Ginny said, her patience growing short quickly.

"You were obviously staying here. Was I okay with this?"

Hermione had to hold in a laugh; it had been a long time since she'd seen Ron in protective mode over his sister.

"You  _had_  to be okay! There's no reason why I would ever need your permission to stay with Harry."

Hermione could see that Harry also found the situation funny. "Yeah, mate. You were fine with it. Ginny and I have been together for years, even before we left school."

"Several years; interrupted for a bit more than a year when Harry thought he was being chivalrous. All in all, we've been together as long as you have been with Hermione."

"Does mum know you're here?"

"Merlin's left bollock, of course she does!" Ginny replied, exasperated. "Not that I have to explain anything to you, but I spend a few nights at home and a few nights here, depending on where I have Quidditch practice the next day."

Ron pursed his lips and looked from Harry to Ginny and vice versa. "So why are you two not married?"

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Don't ask  _me_ ," Harry said, staring pointedly at Ginny, who just closed her eyes in exasperation as she nodded her head.

Ron looked at Hermione and rolled his eyes. "Alright, then. I guess I'm fine with it now."

"Now that we're done with it," Harry said, "what the hell happened at your place?"

"We suspect the Dark Wizards that took Ron got into the house," Hermione told them.

"We can't imagine who else would."

"Did you set up any wards this morning?"

"Yes, I did, if only the basic ones. I was thinking of keeping Muggles away when I put them up. Didn't think about needing protection against our own. I guess I didn't think it thoroughly."

"We should have known those Dark Wizards wouldn't be just dandy with me escaping," Ron commented. "They're probably nervous of the things that I know. Funny thing, I don't think I know all that much."

"Maybe you know more than you think you do," Ginny said. "Who knows, maybe one of those little things you remember is crucial to discover who or where they are."

"Whatever they wanted by getting into our home," Hermione countered, "all they seem to have done is to destroy things. I think most of it is repairable, but I still want to check in more detail tomorrow."

"Maybe we should go with a team of Aurors," Ron suggested. "Maybe they left a little something more than mess behind them."

All three looked at him, surprised.

"Once an Auror, always an Auror, I guess." Harry said. "I think you're right. I'll owl the Department early in the morning, and we'll go to your house and check. Now, how about we eat something? I'm hungry."

They ate a cold dinner, and then talked for a bit about their visit to Hogwarts.

"It was amazing standing up in the middle of the Quidditch field," Ron told them. "I could feel that I loved that place. The castle was magnificent, and Gryffindor tower felt very cozy."

"Neville took us to all the important places inside the castle," Hermione added. "Then I took him out to walk the fields. We had a good time."

"That's great," Harry commented. "It must be amazing to see the castle with new eyes."

"I'd trade that experience for my memory, believe me," Ron joked. No one seemed to find it funny.

"Well, I think it's time to sleep," Ginny said to break the tense moment. "Tomorrow might be a long day."

"Good idea," Harry replied. "You two don't mind sleeping on the couch, right?"

Neither Ron or Hermione spoke, but they both opened their eyes wide in surprise.

"We haven't yet managed to finish the guest room. The only thing you can sleep on is the couch. You don't mind, do you?"

Hermione avoided looking at Ron, in case her eyes betrayed her nervousness. It was ironic that, as soon as Ron had realised she wasn't sleeping with him, they were forced to do so.

"We don't mind," Ron said hesitantly, looking at Hermione for confirmation. She looked down and didn't say anything.

The day Ron had returned, and after Harry and Ginny had left, Hermione had looked at him sleeping on their bed for a long time. He had seemed so weak, almost like a shadow of the Ron that had left that day, a year ago, in October. Still, despite his ill appearance, it was Ron, and she was both thankful and scared.

She had waited so long for that moment. So many nights she had spent longing to have him close, and now that he was, she found she was unsure of how to proceed. All she wanted was to climb to bed and hug him close, to feel his body against hers. She had refrained from doing so, for fear of waking him up and interrupting his much needed rest. The following night, with him still sleeping, she thought that maybe she should still let him be by himself, at least until he had his memory back. Then, they could resume their relationship exactly where they had left off, and things would naturally flow easily. Only that it hadn't happened that way, and after two nights of letting him sleep on his own, to suddenly change the pattern felt wrong. She decided then that they would have to agree to sleep together, once they felt comfortable with each other again.

She knew she was partly to blame for delaying the restart of their relationship. She had been the one to stop him from kissing her. She had simply felt she couldn't kiss him and pretend nothing had changed during those months apart. They had to rebuild their companionship and comfort with one another, so that the tension they'd felt at odd moments could disappear. Now, all of that was forced to happen within a few minutes time, thanks to Harry and Ginny making the decision for them.

They transfigured the sofa into a bed and got everything ready. Harry and Ginny said goodnight, leaving Ron and Hermione alone in the living room.

They didn't speak. The room was silent while they took turns to get ready in the bathroom. The tension was growing, and Hermione wondered if there was any way they could make this easier.

"Look," Ron said, breaking the silence. "If you want, I can sleep on the floor. I know you don't want us to sleep together."

"I don't want you to sleep on the floor. You still need to recover."

"Well, I'm not going to let you sleep on the floor, and if you don't want to sleep with me then-"

"Stop it," Hermione interrupted him. "It's not like that."

"It isn't?" Ron asked, with what Hermione thought was subtle hope in his voice.

"No, it's just that..." Hermione tried to find the words for how she felt. She wanted to be close to him; would it be  _really_  wrong to change that? Was it really that bad of an idea to sleep together for one night? "You know, it doesn't matter. We should sleep together," she finally said, trusting she wasn't too obvious.

"It might even help my memory."

"It won't hurt it, surely."

They looked at each other, and, finally, Hermione felt herself giving him a small smile.

"Great, then," Ron announced casually as he slipped under the covers. Hermione did the same, staying on her side of the bed. They lay side by side, not touching each other, both of them looking at the ceiling. The awkward tension from before was gone, to be replaced by an acute sense of awareness.

A few moments passed, and it was finally Ron who broke the silence. "Why is it that Ginny doesn't want to marry Harry?" he whispered.

"She does want to marry him. They're planning to, in the future."

"But Harry implied she didn't want to."

"She doesn't want to get married  _just yet_. She wants to get married when she can settle down, and she feels she can't do so while traveling around with the Harpies. She doesn't want to start their married life with her away half the year."

"Oh, alright, I see."

Again silence filled the room. Hermione found it was getting easier to lay next to him, now, after settling down with their small talk. If he were to ask to kiss her now, she thought this time she would let him.

She turned to look at him and found him staring at her. She considered reaching out to him; something innocent, like maybe taking his hand in hers. She was about to do so when he talked again.

"And when were  _we_  going to get married?"

"Oh," she said, feeling slightly self-conscious again. "We hadn't decided on a date yet, but we were thinking maybe a summer wedding; last July was high in our possibilities."

He kept looking at her, sadness and longing filling his eyes now. "So probably we would have been married by now."

"Yes, we would have," Hermione replied.

"I don't know how many times I've said it, but I want you to know I really am sorry."

Hermione now did reach for his hand. "It's not your fault, Ron. Don't blame yourself. Whoever took you is responsible for all of this. And we're going to fix it."

And without saying much more, they allowed the silence of the house, and the exhaustion of the day, to help them fall asleep.

Hermione woke up in the middle of the night to realise Ron had one arm around her, with one of his feet in between hers. She let a sigh of pleasure escape, for that's how they used to sleep before he had gone missing. He may not be the same Ron during the day, but it seemed he was still there, with her, tonight.


	12. Confrontations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this chapter onwards, this story is going to be rated E, due to mature situations and language.

Ron, Hermione, and Harry, alongside a team of Aurors, checked the house thoroughly. They didn't find any clues, which lead them to decide their purpose had been to wreck the place and nothing else. Everyone helped organize and clean their house. After they left, Ron and Hermione went to St. Mungos for a check-up. The Healer commented on how Ron had gained some weight already and how his organs were fully functional and stable once again.

"Now," the Healer continued, "we're going to try to check your brain again. Are you ready?"

Ron nodded his head, and looked at the man in front of him expectantly.

Hermione observed the Healer trying different spells, moving his wrist in delicate and purposeful movements. She felt her stomach contract in anticipation; she couldn't help but hope that  _this_  time things would be different and that the spells would actually  _work_.

As minutes went by, she could feel Ron's disappointment growing. Finally, the Healer dropped his wand arm, and looked at them apologetically.

"I'm sorry. We found some different spells that we thought might work, but they evidently didn't."

"What spells did you tried today?," Hermione asked. "I would like to know more details, if you don't mind."

"We have tried  _Reminiscor_ ,  _Recordor_ ,  _Anpraterei_ , and  _Nondediscus_. We've also checked his mind for traces of magic, using  _Resigno_ , but it doesn't seem to find anything."

"But the Dark Wizards  _did_  something," Ron complained. "Twice a week, they would do stuff to me. I can't remember the words they used, but they did do magic on me."

"Nobody doubts you," Hermione reassured Ron, rubbing her hand on his arm. Then, facing the Healer, she continued. "I think that it sounds like they were using new magic. They must have used spells and charms they developed themselves."

"It's certainly a possibility," the man agreed. "It would explain why we can't find traces of them; we're not looking for the right things. It might also help understand what happened to the other Aurors that lost their memories."

"So what can we do?" Ron asked, anxious to find a solution.

"We have to figure out what is the underlying source of magic used, and what exactly is it doing. Then we have to find out if we can develop a counter-curse. It's not an easy process," the Healer explained.

"It can also be dangerous. Trying spells you're creating can result in a disaster. You never know what is going to happen!"

"That's why the other Aurors decided not to force their memories back. They had only lost a few weeks worth of memories; for them, it was not worth the risk."

"My options then," Ron said, "are not getting my memory back or causing an unexpected, worse consequence?"

Both Hermione and the medic remained silent, unhappy with the answer they would have to give.

A knock at the door interrupted them. It was Aurors John and Duncan.

"Hello, Ms. Granger. Ron, doctor," the Aurors greeted everyone in the room. The Healer excused himself and left the room.

"Just call me Hermione, please."

"Do you have any news?" Ron asked.

"In fact we do, Weasley," Duncan said. "We tried to triangulate your different memories, and found the possible place where the Dark Wizards are hidden. John and I just got back from scouting the place. We will go back tomorrow and try to find the cabin you recall, and if we're successful, we should be taking a whole team of Aurors there with us."

"Sounds promising," Ron commented.

"If everything goes according to plan," John continued, "we should have your kidnappers captured by the end of the week."

"That would be great," Hermione commented. "Maybe then we will finally know how to get Ron's memories back."

"That's certainly our hope," John asserted. "We want to help in any way we can to bring justice to the situation."

"Thank you, mate," Ron said. The Aurors took their leave then, and left the room.

"I really hope it works out," Ron told Hermione, breaking the silence as soon as they were alone. "I know it's only been a few days, but it feels like centuries."

"Do you feel comfortable leaving everything in the hands of other people?" Hermione asked, not commenting on Ron's statement.

"What do you mean?" Ron said, getting his things ready to leave the room.

"Well, right now there's not much  _we_  can do. The Mediwizards are doing something, Aurors are doing something... and I don't like being left to wait." Hermione held her breath for a moment, debating how to tell Ron about her research. "Ron... I have been doing some reading," she finally said, noncommittally. "I think I have a few ideas on how to find a counter-curse."

"You do? Brilliant! Is this the research Neville mentioned at Hogwarts?"

"Yes. But I have to warn you. I'm not certain yet that my ideas are safe. There's a lot more I want to read before making any decisions."

"Do you think you should have mentioned it to the Healer?"

Hermione paused. She knew it was the logical thing to do. At the same time, she knew that the chances of finding a solution were multiplied if different teams were working together, and in that case she didn't want to intervene on what the medics were doing. "I think I want to be more sure of what I've found before telling them anything. They're investigating too, and what I'm doing is not necessarily going to work. I don't want to burden them yet."

They left the room and started walking. Suddenly, Ron changed subjects. "So," he said, the tips of his ears getting red. Hermione wondered what he was thinking; he lookeded shy. "Do you fancy going out for dinner somewhere? You know, just to talk and... dunno, reconnect or something."

Hermione looked at him, slightly surprised. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"If you want me to," he replied, evidently embarrassed.

She smiled, both happy that he had thought of that and out of appreciation for his effort. "Let's go this way," Hermione guided them to a place she knew nearby. "You don't usually invite me out like this."

"I don't? I should have," Ron replied.

Hermione felt bad for him. Even though he didn't seem too concerned with that kind of thing in the past, he appeared to believe he had to do those things now. Hermione thought that, maybe, he was looking for ways to show her his intent on getting back together with her, yet was at a loss on how to actually convey his hopes. She felt that he deserved for her to try to make him feel better. "Maybe you could have invited me out more, but I didn't mind that you didn't do it very often. Having known each other for so long, we didn't feel the need for that kind of thing very much. We were happy to just stay home and watch the telly, cuddling under a blanket, or I would read a book while you listened to a Quidditch game. "

Ron stopped walking and took Hermione's hand. He faced her, looking at her seriously. "If I don't get my memory back, I want you to tell me all about us. What we used to do, how I was to you… everything. I want to be the bloke I was before I left. I want to make our relationship work again, if you'll let me."

Hermione felt a flutter of happiness in her stomach, while at the same time she was sorry for Ron. She felt sorry for the two of them. In the past, they had felt like they had it all, to only lose it in an instant. Ron seemed to be trying to fill in the blanks in his mind by doing things the way traditional couples did, not knowing that they had never been a normal, traditional couple. How could she convey every detail of their story so that he would understand who they were together?

Hermione raised a hand to Ron's face. His eyes were telling her how much he longed for them to be the same. His brain might not be able to show him the images of their lives together, but she was beginning to understand what he meant when he said the emotions seemed to still be there.

She wanted the same things. She wanted to be with him again, not only as a companion during this difficult time, but as a couple. She longed to feel confident with him again, to experience the kind of intimacy where his body was as accessible to her as if it were her own. She found herself debating between kissing him and letting him take the first step. Like all those years before, she knew she would be the one to cross that bridge. He  _had_  tried, after all. Now it was her turn.

She balanced her weight in the balls of her feet and rested her body against his, just like she would have done before. He gave her a thankful, understanding smile that quickly turned to playful as he put his arms around her. She smiled back at him, and finally closed the distance between their lips.

The kiss was tentative and slow, both trying to wake up the memories of their shared past. She marvelled at the feeling of recognition; it didn't take much effort for her to get lost in the softness of his mouth, in the taste of his tongue, just like she would have done before. His hair was still soft under her fingertips, his chest hard against hers, his body supporting her and bringing their past right back to their present.

"Ron-"

A green jet of light flew past Ron's head, lifting strands of his hair in its wake.

"Bloody hell!" he screamed, taking out his wand as he pulled Hermione behind him in reflex. Hermione took out her wand too and moved to his side. They barely had time to pull themselves together when a series of curses began flying at them.

"Can you see them?!" Hermione asked him as she concentrated in defending herself.

"There's two around that corner on the left, and one behind that bush in front of us," Ron replied, bursts of magic flying off his wand. Suddenly, a curse flew past them barely missing its target. "One more around the other corner," he corrected.

"They're well protected. I can't hit them!" Hermione said as she silently used defensive magic, both her and Ron instinctively moving closer together and retreating towards the wall behind them.

All around them, green and red explosions of light kept coming in their direction. Both Ron and Hermione alternated between protecting themselves and trying to stun their attackers.

"We have to get out of here! We can't risk fighting them like this. They're surrounding us!" Ron asserted.

"When I tell you to stop using magic, you stop, alright?" Hermione told him, hoping he would trust her and do as she said. "Now!"

He did trust her. Hermione took his hand in a fierce grip, half expecting a curse to hit them in the second it took her to Apparate them to their place.

"You have to teach me how to Apparate again," Ron said as he looked her over, trying to make sure she was okay.

"I'm fine," Hermione tersely replied. "What did just happen?"

"What do you mean? I'm sure you noticed we were attacked. Merlin, imagine what would have happened if Muggles had seen us!"

"Of course I noticed. I've been attacked before; I can recognise the signs, you know," Hermione crossly replied, ignoring his comment about Muggles. "I'm talking about you. How come you knew what to do?" There was a shrill in her voice now. In the middle of trying to defend herself, Hermione hadn't missed Ron's apt use of magic. During the few minutes they had been under attack, Ron had been able to use several spells only the best Aurors knew how to do.

Ron stared at her, slow realization coming to his face. "I... I don't know."

"Don't give me that crap," Hermione replied, trying and failing to control the anger that was quickly rising inside of her. "You have to know. You either lost your memory or you didn't. You can't have it both ways!"

"What are you on about, Hermione?"

She could see a thread of hurt behind Ron's eyes. Still, her own frustrations and the distress caused by the attack were rapidly taking a hold on her. She didn't seem to have enough strength to calm herself down and talk things rationally. "You used advanced magic! How is it possible you don't have a single memory of your family, of Harry, of  _me_ , dammit, and still you manage to use spells only the best Aurors out there use?"

"I'm telling you, I don't know," he countered, barely keeping his own anger in control.

"Bollocks! Accept that you remember more than you let on!" Hermione got close to him, and punctuated her words by poking her finger on his chest. She barely registered her use of the expletive, as it normally happened when she was furious. "It would make things a  _lot_  easier on me."

Clearly not able to control himself anymore, Ron exploded. "And you think I wouldn't want things to be easier for  _me_? I  _hate_  seeing the pity and hope in everyone's eyes every bloody time they look at me. It's driving me insane, this need to remember. I feel guilty as all hell for not being able to be the man you remember, Hermione, or the son to my parents or my sibling's brother or Harry's best friend! Everyone comes to me expecting me to suddenly make it all better for  _them_ ; they all want me to be the man I was! Don't come to me and ask me that to my face, like I can do something about it, like I can do something about being kidnapped and Obliviated or whatever the hell they did to me. It won't hurt you to be a little understanding with me here!"

"Understanding, you say? And who understands  _me_? I have no one, 'cause the only person who ever really understood me was you, and I still haven't gotten you back!" Angry tears were streaming down her face.

"I know this is unfair for you," Ron said, not longer screaming; now his voice low and coarse in rage and pain. "But you seem to forget how unfair this is for me."

"Oh, believe me, I know how unfair this is for the both of us. Only that you're getting all the help you want, but no one remembers to ask  _me_  if I need any help coping."

"I can't believe you," Ron looked at her, wounded by her words. "I've tried with all that I have to be here for you to the best of my abilities. I even held back from the pain and jealousy I felt when you told me you had gone out on dates. Every time I think about that I go bonkers inside. I just keep telling myself that maybe it was all my fault for not being here for you. I keep quiet, despite having the very real need to let it all out. I did that for you, just as much as I've tried to be here for you through all of this. If you don't recognise it, if you're not satisfied by what I can offer, then maybe I should go stay with my parents and relieve you of this responsibility."

Hermione felt her anger go down to a low burn, as cold fear suddenly took precedence. She realised that it would take only one word to send Ron away with her callousness, and were he to leave, she might finally have lost him forever. This time, it would be her own doing.

"I don't want you to leave," Hermione finally uttered. Then she gathered her strength, and resolutely added, "but I  _need_  to figure out what's going on."

"I don't want to leave, and I need the same thing. I don't know what else I can do to help you, or to get my memory back. This is my best, and I'm sorry if it's not enough."

Hermione could see that he was still angry; she could feel the rage simmering between them. She was aware she needed to be careful with how she approached him.

"Let's work with what we have, then. Let's try to be logical."

"Sounds good to me," Ron replied, letting himself drop to the sofa, a slight scowl on his face.

Hermione took a deep breath, forcing herself to shift gears and put her anger aside. She needed a cool mind to be rational. "What were you thinking about while we were being attacked?"

"Nothing. Just trying to avoid getting myself or you killed."

"You must have been thinking of something. In order to cast spells, you have to think of the incantations."

"I'm telling you," Ron insisted, a very clear edge to his tone, "I was focusing on defending us from the Dark Wizards. I'm sure whatever magic I used was something I would have used a bleeding thousand times while being an Auror. Couldn't it just come out naturally or automatically?"

"I suppose that's possible," Hermione conceded. "It is believed the words used to cast a spell have the function of self-hypnosis, so that you have the proper set of mind needed to control your magic and cast a specific spell. Yet I have never known of wizards not needing to use the words in their minds to do magic."

"It's possible, though, since I just did it."

"I guess," she replied, sensing a spark of understanding appear in her brain. With a calmer brain, logic was presenting a possible solution. Maybe, just a little shift and it would fit nicely...

"Did you kiss the blokes you dated?"

"What?" Hermione was shocked out of her thoughts. "Of course I didn't! I didn't even want to go out with them!"

His body relaxed. "Merlin, I'm so jealous. That you didn't kiss them makes it better, but only slightly, mind."

"I don't even know what to say. I thought this was done with. I thought you were holding back from asking anything related to those stupid dates."

"I can't help it. I've had that damn question stuck in my throat awhile. I just  _pretended_  to be alright. And believe me, I'm holding back from another fight right now. It's a big effort, you know."

Hermione pondered the best course of action. Looking at him, she could see him feeling slightly defeated; his shoulders bent and his head hanging low. The last shreds of anger left her to be replaced by sympathy, giving her the strength to focus on him once more. She knew, despite the words she had thrown at him before, that she needed to support him through this.

She sat close to him, taking his hand in hers. When he looked at her, she cupped his face with her hand, and brushed her lips softly against his. "Please, don't be jealous. I made the mistake of listening to people that didn't understand the way I felt. I regret it to this day; I hated going out with those guys. All I could do was think about you. I was a horrible date, I'm sure."

He breathed out a soft laugh. "I understand what you're saying, though it doesn't make me feel all that great. I just can't help wanting to smack the guys in the head for trying. I can't help wanting you for myself."

"I've been yours basically since we were 13, more or less. That's when I had the frightening realisation that I fancied you quite a lot."

She loved seeing the genuine smile that split his face.

"Is that so? That young, huh?"

"Yes, that young," she said, feeling her face mirroring his smile.

"Can I kiss you again?"

"You don't have to ask anymore, Ron."

Even though Hermione had given him explicit permission to kiss her, she wasn't prepared for him to pounce on her. His arms went around her to keep her close as his mouth attacked hers, his hands tangled in her hair.

It took her only a second to reciprocate with as much passion as he was pouring into the kiss. She could feel her body start to buzz with the excitement of it, enjoying the way it became alight with needs she had ignored for too long. She sensed one of his hands freeing itself from her curls and start going downwards, casually exploring just as he pushed her backwards so that they lay on the sofa.

She loved the weight of his body on top of hers, and how it felt both new and familiar. His tongue played with hers in just the right way, making it easy for her to just fall into the moment and wrap her legs around his waist. This seemed to spur him further, so that he started grinding against her, a suggestive rhythm that echoed the last time they had made love.

Ron finally broke the kiss, his hot breath on her neck. "Please tell me I don't need to ask permission for this, either."

"Oh, by Merlin's crooked hat! I didn't need to see this!" Ginny almost screamed, as she briefly raised her hands to block her eyes.

Ron and Hermione scrambled to their feet. Hermione felt only half embarrassed, the pleasure of feeling him against her in such a delightful way winning over everything else. She still wished she had remembered to take precautions, though; she hadn't even heard the whoosh that announced there were people coming by Floo Network.

"What an awful time to come here uninvited," Harry added.

Hermione looked at Ron, whose ears were showing the characteristic shade of pink signaling his mortification. "It's alright," she said to him. "It's not like this is the first time."

"Please don't bring back memories to my brain. I don't need nightmares tonight."

"It's your fault for not letting us know you were coming, isn't it?" Ron replied to his sister.

"Well, excuse me if we were too worried to think properly!"

"You heard about the attack, then," Hermione stated, connecting the dots.

"Oh, yeah, I guess it makes sense, then," Ron said, clearly having forgotten about it for the moment.

"I just heard from the Auror department that there was magic used in a public Muggle place, and that you two were involved," Harry explained. "Care to tell us what happened?"

"Just what you're imagining, mate," Ron told Harry. "We were walking to a restaurant to have dinner when we were attacked."

"We were lucky to escape unscathed," Hermione added. "They seemed set on cursing us."

"Probably the same Dark Wizards that trashed this place, right?"

"Yeah, definitely," Ron conceded, shrugging his shoulders. "Not much we can do about it, really, until we catch them. We can only hope that happens soon."

"If John and Duncan find the place where they held you hostage, we should have them all in custody in just a couple of days."

"Let's hope that works, then. So far, they seem to hold the key to get my memory back, and I can't fucking wait."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was stuck on this chapter for so long! Thanks so much to Diva-gonzo for helping me out with this one. I hope you like the way I resolved the issue at the end- which is all thanks to you.
> 
> Also, I'm forever thankful of Pili, beta-extraordinaire and wonderful cheerleader and friend.
> 
> Thanks to reviewers, who put the biggest smile on my face. Also thanks to followers and those who favourite this story... it's always nice to know someone is enjoying my it.


	13. More News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, your eyes are not deceiving you... I'm posting a new chapter! Hope you guys like it (enough to leave a review...? lol). As always, thanks to Pili for her awesomest beta work. Also, thanks to hubby, who helped me figure out something that happens in this chapter (he knows what, but I can't tell you, guys! mwuahaha.)

Ron sensed Hermione's absence from the bed as soon as he woke up. He didn't need to open his eyes; he could still smell her scent, but her warmth was gone.

He also became aware of two things. One was his frustration, which was related to the second issue; he was hard as a rock.

He reached down with his hand, playing lightly and lazily torturing himself. Right now, it was easy to regret not pursuing having sex with Hermione the night before, even though at the time it had felt like the right thing to do. When Harry and Ginny had left, he was exhausted and he could see Hermione was in serious need of sleep as well. They had gone to bed and promptly fallen asleep, which he could consider an improvement of sorts; they had assumed they would sleep together and had not argued about it. Still, he remembered perfectly well his last though before losing consciousness-  _I'll do my best in the morning_.

If he were to be honest, there was a part of him that was glad to postpone it, despite what the evidence at hand - ha - was suggesting. It was only logical that in their years together they had honed their lovemaking, and he expected - at the very least, dearly hoped - he was good at giving her pleasure. What man wouldn't want to be proud about making his woman melt? Just thinking of having Hermione come apart under him or on top of him… that was fine by him as well.

The image of Hermione riding him, her breasts bouncing up and down and her curls surrounding her blushing face, pushed him close to the brink. It only took him a second to decide it was alright for him to make himself finish. It had been a while since he had, and if he wanted to please Hermione, he would need to last.

He quickly got up and went into the shower, dealing with himself in less than a minute. He congratulated himself in his reasoning; he would have hated to come so fast the first time they had sex once again… which brought him back to his concerns.

He had no idea what to do to make her feel satisfied. He didn't remember where she preferred to be kissed or where she liked to be touched. He couldn't remember if there was anything she hated, or if there had been any little trick that would make her go crazy. And yet he knew that she did remember all those things, and would undoubtedly expect it all from him. The fact that there was nothing he could do to meet those expectations made him a little anxious. He wanted her so much that he could only hope to manage decently when the time came, for he doubted he would be able to stop himself.

* * *

After getting ready, Ron had gone to the kitchen and found a note from Hermione. It explained she was at the Ministry doing research and that she would be back before lunch.

Once he had eaten breakfast, Ron spent the next few hours practicing spells. It was a long, frustrating, and boring task, so when he heard the  _crack_  signaling the arrival of Hermione and Harry, he was instantly grateful.

"Hi, Ron. We have great news!" Hermione happily said, dropping three big books onto the coffee table.

"You do?" he replied, doubtfully eyeing the dust that puffed out of the books as they hit the wooden surface.

"To start, John and Duncan found the cabin," Harry told him, evidently excited.

That immediately got his attention. "They did?! Did they capture the bastards?"

"Not yet, but we're very optimistic. We're sending a group of Aurors to apprehend them tomorrow."

Ron looked at Hermione, who was smiling from ear to ear. His face echoed hers. "That's bloody brilliant! Can I come?" he added.

"No!" Hermione said in a high-pitched voice, which surprised the three of them. "I... I think I'm close to finding a cure for your memory loss. We don't need you to risk going and be put in danger, not if we can fix it in the safety of our home, right?"

"It's not like it's legal for you to go, anyway, mate," Harry further argued. "You're not in active duty with the Auror Department, not until you retrain or get your memory back. But if Hermione is right, you should be able to recover that soon and get back to work in the field. I can't wait to have you on my team again, but only if it's safe for you and everyone else."

"Alright, I'll wait," Ron said, surprised at how much it bugged him to be left behind. He wanted to act, not passively wait. "But you have to promise me that I'll have a chance at interrogating the buggers."

"That can be arranged," Harry answered with a smile.

Ron then stared at Hermione for a few moments, until he felt a smile form on his face. "So you're close to figuring out what's wrong with me, huh?"

"I think so," Hermione replied, a smile on her own face. "I want to talk to George. He's invented spells before, and I think he might be able to help us. I talked to him a bit already. We're supposed to go to the Burrow now, have lunch, and then we can work on a solution for you."

"What are we waiting, for, then?"

* * *

Ron, Hermione, and George sat in the Burrow's warm and charming sitting room. Hermione was organizing her notes, seemingly getting ready to give an academic presentation to the men.

"Merlin, Hermione," George complained, "can't you just start  _talking_? We don't need an exposition here, I don't think."

Hermione merely closed the books and rolled her eyes at him, causing Ron to laugh. "I was almost done, anyway," Hermione said.

"Whiny bugger," Ron teased his brother.

"Hey, you better be good to me or I might mess up the spell," he jokingly threatened.

"You wouldn't," Hermione confidently replied.

"No, I wouldn't, but I won't just sit here and let ickle Ronniekins abuse me."

"Abuse you?!" Ron countered, a smile on his face.

"Stop bantering," Hermione said. "We have work to do."

"Yes, Mum" Ron and George replied at the same time, earning a steely look back. Both brothers laughed good-naturedly.

Ignoring them, Hermione started, "Anyway, I think I know why the spells we've tried so far aren't working. It's simple, really, if you consider how the memory actually works."

"Simple, she says," George commented.

Hermione continued to ignore him. "Memory has different...  _sections_ , I guess you could call them. There's short and long term memory. Within our long-term memory, theorists say there is the explicit and the implicit memory. I think the problem with Ron's is in the explicit part of it, particularly in the episodic section. The part that recalls events, not the part that stores how to do things."

"Alright, I think I'm following," Ron said. He was starting to feel optimistic. "If those two things are different, then it explains why there are so many things I apparently know how to do while still being unable to remember things that happened."

"Exactly! I think that there's something blocking the mechanism that allows you to recall things that happened or factual information stored in semantic memory. If we can unblock it, you should be alright."

Ron couldn't help it; his expectations were rapidly growing. He simply  _couldn't wait_  to be himself again.

"But then, why is it that the spells they've tried so far have not worked? I mean, Healers  _know_  this stuff, right?" George asked.

"I'm not sure. It may be that they never had to develop counter-curses for this situation because there was never a curse that had this specific effect on people. I believe that what the magic Medics have developed was meant to heal the memory as a whole or to restore lost information. Ron can do things that require learnt information, as long as it is automatic. His problem is with conscious recall, which means the information is there; he just can't make it available. What we need to do is to develop a cure for this particular curse."

"That sounds logical. The problem now is that we're not completely sure that's the issue. If we're mistaken, who knows what might happen," George said. "When creating spells, and counter-curses are a specific kind of spell, you have to limit the scope of magic to a clear, concrete result. Magic needs to be directed towards a goal in order to work properly. It's like when you're growing up; as a child you can't control your magic so silly, stupid stuff happens all around you. Learning magic means learning how to direct it to do what you want. The problem is, magic  _is_  going to do something, whether you're successful at directing it to do what you want or not. And in Ron's case, whether we're right or not."

"We  _have_  to try, though," Ron insisted. "Other people might prefer not to take the risk, but I'm not one of them. I hate feeling like I don't have a frame of reference for anything that happens in my life. I need context to make decisions. I feel like I'm left with no strategies to deal with my life if I don't have that context."

"It finally comes out, then, how you're so damn good at chess! Your strategy is based on context, huh?" George exclaimed.

"What are you on about?" Ron asked, confused by the sudden change of topic.

"You're excellent at strategizing, which comes handy when you're playing wizards' chess. But let's not dwell on that; let's go back to the issue. Ron," Hermione continued, "I get it; you want to take the risk. But are you sure? This  _is_  highly risky. If you decide you'd rather we found a different solution, we can try and figure something else."

Ron thought about it for a second. It was easy for him to understand what his own priorities were. His major concern was to be able to function in his life again without second-guessing himself, without feeling that damn insecurity all the time. But how far was he willing to go in order to try to fix his situation?

"Do you have any other idea at all?" Ron asked, doubting that any other solution would make as much sense as trying to fix the source of the problem.

"The only other thing I can think about is using a Pensieve," Hermione replied. "If we get access to one of those, we can share our memories with you so that you can be immersed in them again and store them anew. You  _are_  able to retrieve new memories, so by doing this you would be able to have access to these experiences once more. Basically, I would share the memories I have of you; then everyone would have to do the same with you, helping you restore significant information."

Ron remained silent for a moment, trying to digest the enormity of work involved in this solution. "That... that doesn't sound practical at all," he finally said.

"It sounds like a very unlikely plan B," George added. "It would take ages!"

"Yeah, I don't think it's the most efficient idea either, but it's the only thing I can come up with. There's not many options, and neither of them is simple or without risk. That's why we can't choose for you. You have to decide what you would rather do. Whatever it is, I'll help you through it."

Hermione's offer of support was said with vehemence, showing Ron that she was making a real effort to provide all the help he might need. If he'd had any doubts that her complaint the day before was an empty threat, induced by tiredness, frustration and fear, this erased that idea completely. He was moved by her gesture, and reached for her hand.

"If there's a chance to get my memory back, I have to try. I can't conform to being second best version of myself just because I'm afraid of the consequences. I'd rather be brave than wonder what would have happened."

"Such a Gryffindor thing to say," George commented, obviously uncomfortable with the tension of the discussion.

Ron noticed Hermione smile at George's words, although she never broke eye contact with him.

"I don't think this is only for me to decide, though. If our experiment were to worsen my memory condition, it's going to affect you, too. What if I can't store any new memories, and I'm stuck with a pathetic week's worth of memories? Merlin, what if I lose the ability to retrieve any kind of memory, turning me into some kind of dumb, empty-headed nutcase? I doubt anyone would be happy with that."

"Stop that; don't think about those things. We're putting our best effort to create a spell that will do exactly what we need. We're taking as many precautions as we can. We have a good chance of being successful, or I wouldn't even be suggesting it as an option. Still, you need to know there are risks, and make your decision. Whatever it is, you have all of our support. I just want you to be sure."

"I am sure."

"Then we have work to do, and we better start now."

* * *

They worked for several hours, only taking a break to have dinner with the family. Everyone but Charlie and Bill's family were there, and seeing them all together gave Ron an appreciation for what his life must have been like before he was captured. There was such warmth in the way they talked to each other that even the fighting felt like it was happening in a safe environment.

In a certain way, it gave Ron the chance to distance himself from his own situation and try to look at it dispassionately. He had some hard choices to make; strategize about his own life, if it even made sense. He knew that whatever he chose to do about his situation, they were going to be there for him. He could see that his mum was worried by the way she looked at him, but it made him proud to realise that she also had confidence in what they were able to do. Hermione said that they had earned Molly's respect after the war, once she had had time to digest what they had done while fighting. That simple comment that required Ron to know what they had done during the war seemed to only strengthen his resolve. It seemed to him that there was no conversation that didn't bring up something he had forgotten.

Ron's thoughts were interrupted by Ginny, who cleared her throat and asked for everyone's attention.

"Harry and I have been talking a lot lately. Life has been pretty crazy for everyone in this family. We have all gone through so much. We're still going through a lot," she said, looking at Ron and Hermione. "And Harry and I realized that we don't want to wait anymore. Life happens, and whatever it throws at us, we want to face it together. For this reason, I'll be retiring from Quidditch at the end of this season..."

"And we'll be getting married next spring," Harry added, although everyone seemed to have figured out what was happening.

Amidst expressions of congratulations, and as Molly teared up and exclaimed such words as  _my little girl is getting married_ , Percy asked with curiosity, "When did you get Dad's permission, Harry?"

"I didn't," Harry said, a smile on his face. "I suggested I should, but... but we decided otherwise."

"He didn't need to. I'm an adult, modern woman. I'm the only one making that kind of decision," Ginny added, with a tone that made it obvious she was ready to have to defend herself.

"But it's tradition!" Percy complained, shocked that tradition alone wasn't enough to convince everyone.

"It's alright," Arthur said. "Harry has been a part of the family for a long time."

"Of course we would have said yes," Molly added. "We said yes to him a long time ago."

* * *

Night came and the family didn't seem to want to part. There had been a few toasts in the honor of the newly engaged couple, and Molly seemed more than ready to start talking wedding preparations. When Arthur had started nodding off on one of the chairs, and one's yawn became so contagious that it caught like a raging fire between the rest of the family, everyone finally decided that it was time to go to bed. Harry and Ginny were staying in Ginny's bedroom -apparently, another big change in Molly; accepting their children's adult relationships-, and Ron and Hermione in his.

"So, tell me again, you say this is a big change for my mum?"

"Yes, it is," Hermione replied, as they got their things ready for the night. "When we were teenagers she was adamant; she didn't want us alone in a bedroom or almost anywhere at all. But then we were alone in that tent for months, grew up, and after a while we moved in together... there was no point in her fighting it anymore. It didn't make sense, when we were obviously together as adults."

"Together as adults, huh? You mean, we were having sex and it was obvious."

"If it wasn't obvious, it was logical," Hermione replied, suddenly looking slightly flustered. "We were living together. What were the chances we wouldn't be sleeping together?"

"Right." Ron took his shoes off and then made a pause, standing next to the bed and looking at Hermione, who was sitting still on it. "Just to make sure... we  _are_  sleeping together tonight, right?"

"Yes, I think so." She upturned her face to look at him.

"Good," he said, and sat next to her. He took her hand, and intertwined his fingers with hers. "I was thinking..."

"Yes?"

"Seeing Gin and Harry together, talking about their wedding... well, it made me think..." Ron tried to find the words to express what was on his mind. Hermione was waiting, and squeezed his hand in encouragement. "If this hadn't happened to me- to us, rather, we would have been married by now. I'd like to think that we would have been happy. I really want us to be happy."

"I want that, too. And it'll happen, I'm sure!"

"I guess what I'm trying to say is... if it's not me who can make you happy, I want you to be free to find someone who will." Ron heard himself saying the words, and somehow wasn't surprised at how hard it was to swallow the idea. He knew it was the right thing to say, and he expected to dislike saying it, but he wasn't prepared to wanting to fight himself so forcefully afterwards.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione said, confusion in her voice. She kneeled in front of him, her hands taking both of his. "I'm fine with you. I want to be with you."

"But you might change your mind if the spell goes wrong. I want you to know I wouldn't blame you."

"Stop it. I know it's been hard and I've complained about it, but we're okay. We're dealing with this. I don't need to find anybody else."

"Yes, things being as they are now. But what if it gets worse?"

"It won't. We've done as much as it's possible to be prepared."

"Hermione, listen. All I'm saying is that maybe it's good luck that we hadn't gotten married when this happened, because this way you're free to go if things are too much. You can't deny that there's a chance the spell is going to make things worse. If that were the case... I want to free you from this all."

"No,  _you_ listen," she said, a definitive tone in her voice. "If we had been married and this had happened, I wouldn't have left you. To me, marriage is that kind of promise. And I made that promise when I said yes to your proposal."

"I don't remember my proposal," Ron complained, frustrated.

"I don't care; I do," Hermione countered, almost squeezing Ron's hands in her need to make him understand. "You were infuriating and sweet and it was perfect for us. You said you wanted me in your life forever, and I promised I would stay with you because I wanted you in mine just as much. I don't make promises lightly, and that one I  _meant_. So don't tell me I'm free to go, because I'm not. I love you too much to give up on you."

"Are you sure you love me? Despite everything that's happened?"

"I do love you, despite how stubborn and ridiculous you can get!"

"Well, you're being stubborn too, but I like your kind of stubborn." Ron pulled on Hermione's hands and gathered her on his lap, his long arms around her. "What did I do to deserve you?" When Hermione didn't reply, he insisted. "No, I'm serious, I don't remember what I did!" But this time he was laughing.

For a moment he was content to just be close to her, smelling her hair as it tickled his nose. They seemed to be getting used to being together again, and Ron couldn't be happier about it. Then Hermione moved a bit to get more comfortable in his arms, unknowingly rubbing her bottom against him, and he knew he was in trouble. The way things were stirring down there, he knew he had to be careful or he wouldn't be good for her at all, despite the preventative wanking he'd done that morning. It hadn't taken much, and now all he wanted was to ravish her.

Ron tried not to move until he knew exactly what to do, wishing she would give him some kind of signal that she wanted him to make a move. Hermione wasn't moving, though; she seemed to be happy just breathing. When they had come close to doing it the day before it had been spontaneous; he had jumped her and luckily it had seemed to go well. But he didn't think the mood was right for that now, and he didn't think he could handle a rejection at the moment. All he knew was that he was feeling the need to at least try to get her in the mood. How in hell was he supposed to go on about this?

He carefully moved a hand up her waist, trying to bring it closer to one of her breasts. He calculated that his thumb was just about an inch from his goal, so he started moving it in such a way that it could either be just a comforting rub that just incidentally touched her breast or an insinuation of something more.

Hermione sighed. "Should we get ready for bed?" she said as she got up and went to the narrow closet in the room, apparently looking between his old clothes for something to sleep in.

Ron cursed his lack of memories for what felt like the billionth time; he was sure that he would know exactly what to do to convey his intentions if he remembered what she liked. As he slid his shirt off over his head, he thought that maybe all he needed was to show her how much he wanted her and leave the rest up to her. An obvious option was to make her notice his hard on, which was pushing against his jeans yearning to do things to her. If he needed only to think of touching her to be like this, what hope could he have to last enough to please her?

He hooked his thumbs on his pockets, his chest bare, unsure about whether to take his jeans off and reveal his boner to the world. He watched her as she casually unbuttoned her shirt and slid it off her arms. She had been facing the other way, something for which he was thankful. He dropped his arms to his sides so that he could fist his hands and stop himself; he knew that he would lose it if he were to see her wearing only her bra. Then she turned, and he groaned.

She had been distracted by the noise he made. She lifted her gaze to look at him, and he was sure he must have looked ridiculous, what with the tent on his trousers and his arms taught with his effort to not ravish her. She gave him a nervous smile and turned again, apparently not noticing the effect she was having on him, her hands reaching back to unhook her bra. He was hypnotized; he was frozen in his place, going slowly mental in his need to reach for her, and he didn't know how long he could take it.

Ron couldn't take his eyes away from the two little indentations on the small of her back, where the curve of her muscles disappeared under the jeans. Giving him another quick look over her shoulder, she turned again and worked the button of her trousers. "You're making me self-conscious, Ron," Hermione said.

A noise came from the first floor. Neither of them seemed to care.

"I can't help it," Ron replied. "I can't take my eyes off of you." He took two steps to stand behind her, one of his hands lifting as if in its own volition to touch the marks left by her bra on her skin. He could see her reacting to his touch, her skin getting covered in goose flesh. He raised both his hands to her shoulders, and moving her hair away, kissed her softly on the point where shoulders and neck met.

Voices were raised in some part of the house. Hermione tensed up, and Ron cursed vividly. They could hear someone coming up the stairs.

Ron quickly gathered his shirt and put it back on. By the time he had checked on Hermione and someone knocked on the door, she was wearing a ratty shirt and an even rattier pair of sweat pants.

Ron opened the door to see Ginny slightly breathless. "What in the bloody hell?"

"We need you downstairs," she said and started to go back down the stairs, assuming he would follow.

He did. "What's going on?"

"I tried to give you guys some time; that's why I actually climbed the stairs instead of Apparating, you know? I don't want to repeat yesterday's shock," Ginny replied offhandedly. "But I think you'll want to know about this."

They reached the sitting room, where two Aurors were talking to Harry.

"...The Healers at St. Mungo's are confused, and a bit scared," Ron heard one of them say.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"We don't know yet," Harry said, "but it's potentially bad news. A wizard was found wandering in Diagon Alley, crying and confused. He claimed he had lost his magic."

"He what?!" Hermione said, shocked.

"He was taken to be checked by mediwizards, but they are at a loss what to do. They suspect it could be something similar to what Weasley went through. It might be that he just doesn't remember how to cast spells."

"Apparently, there's no records of this happening before. Squibs, sure, but not magical people losing their magic, their power. He remembers being a wizard and using magic, but claims he's incapable of performing the simplest charms."

A silence fell in the room, everyone seemingly appalled at the idea of losing the very essence of being a wizard.

"How can they check whether he lost his magic or his memories? My mind is blank before a certain point, but I could feel magic coursing through me when I saw magic being used."

"It seems that the man doesn't have a clear recollection of what happened; the Healers say it can be the shock or a spell that is causing his confusion. But he does recall a cabin in the woods."

"Must be the same Dark Wizards," Harry said.

"This is horrifying," Hermione said. "Could it be that they're trying to create a new curse?"

"A new unforgivable," Ginny whispered, despising the very prospect.

As the group sat in the warm room, they tried to find comfort in each other, suddenly forced to imagine the unimaginable. Ron was acutely aware,  _this could have been me_.


	14. The Spell

The Aurors stayed at the Burrow well past three in the morning. Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had been discussing with them the plan they had to capture the Dark Wizards; considering the risks and unknowns added after they found the wandering wizard, they had decided to postpone the seize and attack to the cabin a full twenty-four hours. They had decided to use the extra time to go over the plan again and prepare the Aurors in the group to deal with the risk of having a possible fourth Unforgivable Curse thrown at them.

After they left, Harry and Ginny decided to go straight to bed. Ron seemed to not have heard them say goodnight, and sat staring to the fireplace with an absent look on his face. Hermione sat next to him, not sure if there was anything she should say.

Suddenly, Ron let out a deep sigh, and said, "Oh, well, this all might end tomorrow."

"What did you say?" Hermione asked, turning to look at him.

He looked lovely; the soft lights in the room and the sparks from the fireplace reflected on his hair and eyes, his eyelashes glowed a mixture of silver and gold. His face showed signs of distress and tiredness despite the smile etched on his features. "I said," he replied as he pulled her to him with an arm around her shoulders, "that this all might be over tomorrow. Blimey, how I wish I could go with that team of Aurors and capture the bastards that did this to me."

Hermione settled into the crook of his shoulder, letting out a sigh of her own. She didn't want to show it, but she dreaded the time when Ron would go away on missions again. Instead, she focused on their plan for the next day. "I hope everything goes well tomorrow with the spell. I don't know what else we can do to prepare that we haven't done already. I still think we should go over every detail tomorrow before we actually do the spell-"

"Relax, Hermione," she could hear his chest rumble with his laughter. "I can hear you getting all anxious. There's nothing we can do about it right now, so let's not worry about it." He yawned.

"How can you be so calm about it?" she complained, although she was grateful that he thought that way. She worried enough for the two of them; besides, she really did believe that it was better if he kept a clear mind and an optimistic perspective. "But you're right. We better let it be until we're ready to try the spell."

The room became quiet, with only the crackling from the fire making some noise. Hermione was happy to notice that there was no tension in their silence. Her mind started wandering, creating images of the different scenarios they might face the next day. She didn't notice herself falling asleep or when Ron's snoring vibrated in his chest. She simply sank into unconsciousness, the fears of what they were about to try engulfing her mind and dreams.

* * *

 

They had only slept a few hours when the noises of the wakening house disrupted them. Molly was in the kitchen, seemingly unaware that Ron and Hermione were cuddled up in the sofa in the sitting room. Hermione became slowly aware of her surroundings, noticing the noises of breakfast being made and people walking about in the upper floors. She could hear Ron's soft snoring, and the normalcy of that sound gave her the sense of optimism that had been lacking just a few hours ago. Still, she didn't open her eyes and focused instead of the prospect of this new day: Ron might get his memory back.

"Merlin!" Molly gasped, and as Hermione opened her eyes, she could see her clutching her chest. "What are you two doing there? You scared the wand off my hand!"

Hermione checked Ron, who miraculously was still asleep. "I'm sorry, Molly," she said. "We fell asleep here last night without planning to."

"Everything alright, dear? Should I make breakfast for you two?"

"Breakfast?" mumbled Ron, slowly waking up.

"I will make your favourite!" Molly said, as she turned and went back to the kitchen. "I'll make enough to fill even  _your_  stomach!"

That made Hermione laugh, which seemed to bring Ron back to full awareness. He looked at her with his eyes sparkling, and with his arm around her shoulders, brought her close to him. He took a deep breath, and said, "today's going to be a good day. I'm sure of it, love."

Right in that second, she was sure he was right.

* * *

 

Breakfast still lingered in Hermione's mind as they arrived to her and Ron's place. Everyone had seemed happy, but she had noticed the tinge of worry in everyone's eyes. Molly, especially, had seemed to be making an effort to keep quiet and hide her concerns. She appreciated that although everyone had been worried they had tried really hard to stay optimistic. Hermione couldn't blame them. What they were doing was incredibly risky, and she had promised she would let them know how everything had gone as soon as possible.

"Should we get started right away?" Ron asked, interrupting her thoughts.

She could understand his eagerness, but there was a plan and she intended to follow it step by step. "We talked about this, Ron. First we have to stimulate your brain's structures-"

He sighed in resignation. "Alright, let's do it your way."

Hermione took a deep breath of her own and took a couple of steps to stand in front of Ron. She looked into his eyes. "Hey... I know you're impatient, but I really think we have to stick to the plan."

"I know. Sorry. I just... It's so close I can  _feel_ it."

She pushed any other worrisome thought away from her mind. "Let me bring out our photo albums and we can begin."

Hermione saw Ron sitting on the sofa as she left the room. It didn't take her long to find the books filled with pictures of their lives together. During the first few weeks after Ron's disappearance, she had spent her evenings collecting and organizing the few shoe boxes they had filled with pictures over the years. She had now three thick photo albums, where both Muggle and wizard pictures depicted their story. She took the books with her and rested them on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"So like we said, we're going to keep one of these albums closed." She set the book on top on the far corner on the table, keeping it completely shut from their sight. "Once we cast the spell, we're going to use the pictures inside that album to prompt you to recall your memories."

"Yes, yes," Ron automatically said, slightly fidgety.

"Now, these other two albums? We're going to go through them, trying to make you remember the stories behind some of these photographs..."

"And once we give up because I can't remember one single event, we'll get ready to actually cast the spell?"

Hermione bit her lip to stop herself from retaliating. She was determined to follow the steps, even if Ron seemed so impatient that he was fighting her. Luckily, he seemed to backtrack and become resolute.

"Again, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be difficult. Why don't you show me the first photographs?"

The first images were of them in Hogsmeade, when they had met during her year alone at Hogwarts. They both looked so much younger; their faces were slightly rounder, smiling. Some snowflakes were falling slowly down the square of paper, catching on their hair and shoulders.

"What do you think about this one? Tell me whatever comes to mind."

He took the book and put it on his knees. He sighed and started talking quickly. "It was winter and it was very cold. We were having dinner and noticed it was the first snow of the year. We came out to play in the snow...?" He became abruptly silent, and then continued softly, "that's a load of crap, I know it is."

"Don't get discouraged. Let's just keep going."

They tried for the best part of an hour. They spent a longer time with a few pictures, looking at scenes of them in recent years: them laughing at a joke someone told at the Burrow's dinner table; a picture Ron had taken of Hermione reading in his bedroom, the sunset light turning her hair to gold; a picture of them in front of their house the day they had moved in, faces full of hope and pride. Despite the effort they were making, and whether they were taking a few seconds or several minutes in each photograph, the exercise seemed to be fruitless. Sometimes he seemed to recall a few details, but they were so general that even Hermione had to agree that they couldn't really know if it had been a deduction from the pictures' context or simple luck.

As they worked, Hermione had expected Ron to become more frustrated and anxious, maybe even lashing out to her, but instead it was harder and harder to get him to talk.

Hermione pondered her options. Finally, she decided that they had probably achieved their goal, which was simply to try and stimulate Ron's brain and memory structures. Now it was time to perform the spell.

"Alright, I think we can take the next step. What do you think?"

"Now?" Ron perked up immediately, evidently excited. "Are you sure?"

"I think so. I mean," Hermione said, hating the nervousness that was quickly rising within her. "Are  _you_  sure?"

"Well..." Ron stood up and started pacing the sitting room. "Yeah... Yes. Yes, let's do this."

Hermione stood up as well, but found herself glued to her spot. "Yes, alright. We'll do it now."

They stared at each other, suddenly frozen, until they both laughed nervously.

"Should we just do it here?"

They sat again on the sofa. Hermione took out her wand and looked at it reflexively. What if she made a mistake? What if it didn't work? What if she made his brain worse?

"Hey," Ron said, covering her hand with his. "Don't worry so much. You've done complex magic before, and George did a good job, too. I trust you both."

"Maybe we should see if we can get George to come here. Maybe it'd be better if he-"

"We talked about that, remember? He really can't do any more than he already did. And I'd rather only have you here."  _In case something bad happens_ , he seemed to be thinking. She didn't know if she could handle it if something bad happened.

"Take a deep breath," Ron said. "I'll do the same. I'll hold back the inappropriate jokes that I make when I'm nervous, and I'll let you concentrate."

"You're being great, Ron... But I don't know if I can do it. I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't be daft, Hermione. Of course you can. I may not remember any specific situations, but I'm sure you're great at everything you do!"

"But, Ron-"

"But  _nothing_ , love! I  _need_  you to do this. I need you to concentrate and do it, alright?"

"Aren't you afraid?" She wished her voice wasn't trembling. Damn her nerves! She thought she would be able to keep it together; she wasn't the same young, nervous witch anymore. Despite her growing up and all the maturing she had done in the past few years, the little insecure girl was still coming out.

"I'm terrified," he laughed nervously again. "But I'm also excited. I  _have_  to think this will work. I  _think_  this will work. And you do, too. So don't let nervousness get in the way, because I need you to be the sharpest you can be."

He needed her, and she'd rather die than let him down. "Alright, then. Let's do this. What memory do you want to try to remember?"

"I've beeen trying to remember the first time I kissed you. I've been here for over a week and yet, somehow, I still don't know how that happened."

She looked at him and she found hope and fear mixed in his eyes. Just like that day more than five years ago, Hermione felt the irresistible and inexplicable need to kiss him. She didn't wait to question her impulse; she simply discarded her wand to grab him with both her hands. As if by some sort of telepathic emotional connection, he seemed to have felt the same need for contact. They crushed together forcefully, almost desperate, to kiss each other deeply. The tension bringing them close like this was fueled by need and fear, serving as a distraction from the possibility of a failed spell as much as a promise of what awaited them. This kiss might be the first of their regained life or, if everything went wrong, the last.

"Hermione," Ron said as they both recovered their breath. "I have complete faith in you. I know you'll do it right, but if the worst were to happen..."

"Don't even say that, Ron. This is going to work," she said to convince him as much as herself. "Are you ready?"

He took a deep breath as he steeled himself. He closed his eyes, his face serious. "I am. I'm ready to remember how I kissed you the first time."

Hermione smiled lightly, thinking how it had been her to kiss him first. She didn't say anything, and readied herself to perform what felt like one of the most important spells she'd ever cast.

"Alright… just let your mind imagine that scene; that first kiss. I'll do the rest."

Hermione put her powerful mind to work, concentrating as hard as she ever had. She imagined the magic coursing through her, getting ready to do her bidding and produce the desired effect. Lifting her want to touch Ron's temple, she said with conviction, " _Vocaris Voluntatem_ ".

A flash of white light shone from the point where her wand and his skin met. Ron groaned and flinched. Then Ron took his hands to his head and groaned even louder.

"Ron?" Hermione asked, tentatively.

Then Ron started screaming. "NO! NO! AH!"

"Ron?!" She asked again, terrified, imagining the worse had happened. She tried to touch him, to comfort him, but he stood up and started pacing around the room fast and aimlessly.

"MY HEAD!" He continued screaming, and the sound was crushing her heart. "IT'S BREAKING, IT'S HURTING, I CAN'T... AAHHH!"

"Ron! Ron!" she pleaded, trying to grab him by his arms. "Please, look at me!"

"I CAN'T TAKE THIS! AHH, MAKE THIS PAIN GO AWAAAY!"

She listened to his request and found she simply had to comply. "Ron, I have medicine upstairs. It'll make you sleep. Come with me,  _please_!"

Hermione tried to push him upstairs, and finally, while still screaming, he seemed to have caught on what she had said and followed her upstairs.

She emptied the container of medicine on the bathroom's floor, frantically looking for the long, blue bottle containing the potion she hadn't needed in years. She found it and, grabbing it in her fist, jumped upright and ran to the bed where Ron was sitting, holding his head, groaning and crying.

"Ron, love, please, just drink this," she said, not caring in the least how close she was to begging.

He barely managed to look at her, and finally took the bottle from her hand and swallowed fast. As he continued groaning and crying, and feeling lost as to what to do, she settled for simply surrounding his shoulders with her arms, rocking him back and forth as the medicine took a hold of him.

"Shhh, shhh," she said softly as he started losing consciousness, and once he lay down, she followed him. In just a few minutes, he seemed to have fallen into a deep sleep. As his tears started drying up on his face, hers started flowing freely, chastising herself for the mistake she was sure she had made.

* * *

 

Hermione woke up with a jump. She felt groggy, as if she had been the one to take the sleeping potion. She knew, though, that the real reason for her fogginess was that she had cried herself to sleep.

"Bloody hell," Ron said, waking up next to her. Dawn was casting a dim light on the room, just enough for her to see him as he grabbed his head with his hands. "Did I fight a Hippogriff last night or what? I feel awful."

Her mind became immediately sharp. She reached for him as his eyes opened looking for her, her hand on his face. She could see the change in his features as he started thinking back to what they had done the night before. "How are you feeling? Are you alright?" she questioned. "Should we go and get the album; see if you can remember something?"

"Merlin," he whispered. "No, no... forget the book. Just ask me something."

"Answer with whatever comes to mind," she instructed, letting out a shaky breath. She gathered her courage and asked before it dissolved. "How did you propose?"

He took a second to reply, although it felt like a year. "I... I carved a hole in a copy of The History of Magic and put a ring in there. You-" Ron had problems continuing, as he started to laugh loudly. Hermione started to cry. "You went bonkers! You- you were calling me all sorts of- of names,  _how dare you_ ,  _books are sacred_  and all that-"

Hermione wrapped Ron in her arms, filled with happiness to the point of bursting. She squeezed him hard, half crying and half laughing with him. "Oh, Ron, that's exactly how-"

"No, no, let me finish." He was the one to wrap his arms around her, now, nuzzling on her hair as he continued his story. "I was so upset because I had this wonderful line prepared about how our history together was magic, and how the next tome would be about us making  _the future of magic_  together... I thought I was being so clever, and you just couldn't see past the fact I had made a hole on an old, second hand, abused copy of a book!"

"I did say yes, though," Hermione countered.

"Yes, you did, once we stopped bickering about it."

"How's your head? I was so worried last night!"

"I have a dull headache, but it's manageable."

Hermione kissed him quickly and, filled with energy and optimism, jumped out of the bed. "We should go to your parents' house. Let's get ready." She reached the bathroom, started the water, and got her stuff ready. "I'll send a Patronus to let them know we're coming over with good news!" she added, casting the spell quickly, and then discarding her clothes to the floor. She got under the spray of water and lathered soap on her skin in a business-like manner, permanently smiling.

She felt... complete. Powerful. She felt fulfilled and absolutely certain that her future contained nothing but wonderful things. When she had fallen asleep the night before, she had been terrified that the spell might not have worked. She had been repeating softly "just let him be alright," praying to no one in particular that Ron would be fine. And he  _was_  fine; more than that, he was  _back_. Fully back, and ready to pick up their lives right from where they were before. Now it was time to celebrate. They would go to the Burrow-

Her thoughts evaporated like the steam filling the bathroom. Ron had gotten in the shower with her, wrapped his arms around her, and pressed his body against hers.

"I think we can let my family wait a little while longer," Ron said softly in her ear. "There's something very important we should do first. It involves us in the shower. I had forgotten, but you have a thing for doing it in the water."

Despite the warmth surrounding her, she felt a shiver go through her body. Ron put his hands on the curve of her hips and turned her around.

"I've missed you. Even when I didn't know who I was missing, I missed you. Even being together this past week, I've missed you."

She lifted her arms and rested them on his shoulders, her hands lazily playing with his hair. "You promised you'd come back, and you did. We're together now, and our future looks brilliant. That's what matters."

"I say we celebrate," Ron suggested, his hands roaming down to fondle her buttocks. He grabbed her flesh and pulled up a bit, so that she was lifted to her tiptoes, her body resting against his.

"Funny you suggest that," she replied, her breathing already quickening. She  _did_  have a thing for doing it in the water, and he had  _remembered_. "I had just been thinking that a celebration is due."

He turned and pressed her against the wall. The spray of water was falling on them, steam filling the shower. He started kissing the drops of water on her face, one of his hands touching her waist and the side of a breast, his other hand on her thigh. This hand ran down her sleek skin, until his fingers reached the sensitive groove behind her knee. "I've been so worried," he said between kisses, "that I wasn't going to remember your weak spots."

"Ahhh," she sighed in pleasure, simply enjoying Ron's display of skill.

"Now I remember, though," he continued, now lifting his hand to her face, and grabbing her jaw, pulled her face to the side. Then he used his tongue on her neck, going up to her earlobe, sucking and nibbling on it. "I remember you like it when I'm in control. When I'm rough with you."

"Yes," she replied, even though he had asked no questions.

He kneeled in front of her. His hands lifted to her breasts, where his fingers softly rubbed her nipples.

"I remember how sensitive your nipples are," he continued listing, and then used his tongue to lightly follow the path of her labia. "And how loud you get when I use my tongue on you."

"Ron," she said, all thoughts abandoning her mind. Her hands were fisting his hair, although she didn't remember doing it in the first place.

Still on his knees, he was using his tongue even more skillfully, and if she was becoming loud, she didn't care. When her knees started to get weak, he simply moved her legs to rest on his shoulders, her back against the wall behind her. Her hands looked for something to grasp, something to keep her straight that way, but failed. "I'm going to fall, Ron, I just-"

The fear and uncertainty had somehow added to her arousal, making her climax so powerfully that her body shook and jerked on its own accord. She had barely come back to her senses when she realized Ron was now standing in front of her, one of her legs up hooked on his arm. "I'm going mad with the need to be in you, love," he stated, and just a moment later, she felt him sliding into her. "Fuck, yes, this," he added, and started pumping in and out like his life depended on it.

Hermione felt her body humming; a light shiver-like current going through it, a kind of soft plateau of her recent orgasm. She was both aroused and calm, her mind exquisitely focused on the place where their bodies connected. She could feel each inch of him as he came in and out, its head rubbing the right spots within her. "I won't last long. Gods, Hermione," he groaned.

"Don't," Hermione conceded, her hands up to tangle in his hair again. "Come, love. Come for me."

She felt his release, she heard his moan, and took a deep sigh of thankful mindlessness. He let go of her leg and rested his forehead against hers as he recovered his breath.

"I promise next time we'll take the time to fill up the bathtub. Sometime in October, probably; I'm still pretty weak, you know?"

She laughed at him, and he followed. They laughed loudly and continuously, the sound echoing on the walls. It was several minutes until they could stop long enough to get out of the shower, and even then, laughter filled the bathroom. They had so much to be happy for, and they knew that, somehow, they wouldn't stop being happy any time soon.

* * *

 

Still full of mirth, almost giggly, they stumbled into their bedroom, where they proceeded to get dressed.

"Can't wait to see Mum! She'll cry, I'm sure," Ron said, seemingly not worried about awkward displays of deep affection. "George and Ginny will be bloody impossible, but they usually are, anyway."

"Everyone will be out of their heads with happiness," Hermione added, giddy with joy.

"Is the specky git going to be there? Can't wait to tease him about his engagement. Took them long enough!"

"Harry won't be there. He's on the mission to the cabin, remember?" she asked. "It's a pity he won't know that you have your memory back until he returns from this mission."

Ron stopped getting dressed, and looked at her with a worried look on his face, obviously trying to figure something out in his mind. His eyes were getting frantic, his breathing faster. "FUCK!" he finally exclaimed. "Fuck! Fuck! We have to go!"

"What? What happened?" she scrambled to get ready fast, not knowing what had made Ron so terrified. It scared her cold.

"It's a trap. The cabin is a trap. They're going to kill everybody. We have to go, NOW!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: In preparation for what is to come in this story, I've been rereading the previous chapters. A part of me now wishes I could go back and change a lot things, especially in the first four. Oh well, maybe some day. I want to think that in writing TBYB I've learned a thing or two about writing multichapters, which should come handy when I start my next story :) I would NOT change the cliffies, though! *mwuahahahaah*
> 
> AN2: Physiological stimuli like heart beating fast and fast breathing, ie those produced by fear or anger, can be mistaken for arousal. Science fact of the day!
> 
> AN3: Thanks as always to Pili!


	15. The Cabin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is this, you say? A miracle? :p  
> I'm sorry it took so long, but here it is. Second to last chapter of this story! The next one, which should be posted in the next few days (it's on the final stages of beta-work) will be the final installment of this fanfic. And a heads up: I'm currently writing another multichapter story, which starts right after the Battle of Hogwarts. It's probably going to be called "Love Me Forever". I'm SO excited about it, you guys have no idea. If you like, and until I start posting Love Me Forever, you can read the drabbles I've been writing on Tumblr. My username on there is this same one, and you can find a link to my drabbles on the sidebar.
> 
> Let me know what you think ;)
> 
> Thanks as always to my amazing beta and friend ((hearts))

Ron took Hermione on Side-Along Apparition, arriving directly to the Aurors Department's safe apparition station. His heart was beating fast, and his brain was busy trying to figure out the best alternatives to go on and save the team. He was extremely worried about them, but if he was honest with himself, he was especially worried about his best friend. He was not sorry to admit that he had favouritism for that particular Auror.

"Whilberg!" he yelled. "Where's Whilberg?"

"Weasley?" A few agents were looking up, confused by his sudden arrival.

Ron stopped in front of one of them and grabbed him by the shoulder. "Where's Whilberg?"

"Must be in his office. Wait!" the Auror said, but Ron was already heading towards Whilberg's office.

He knew that, all things considered, it was probably Whilberg who was the second in command right now. That in itself was a problem, since he was a rigid, unimaginative wanker.

As he approached his door, though, another agent stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Where are you going, Weasley?"

"Thompson," Ron said, recognizing him with no problem. He expected trouble with Whilberg, but if Thompson was there it was probably going to be worse. "I need to talk to Whilberg. Is he in charge right now? It's an emergency."

"He  _is_  in charge, but I can probably help you, as well. Why don't you tell me what the issue is?"

"Look, I don't want any problems, but I need to go straight to the wizard making the decisions right now," Ron replied as he knocked on the door forcefully.

"Hey," Thompson insisted, evidently getting angrier by the moment. He had always wanted to be an authority within the department, and being ignored like this didn't sit well with him. Ron simply knocked on the door again, with even more urgency. "I know you're Potter's friend, but I'm third in command right now and-"

"What?!" Whilberg opened the door, exasperated, but Ron's presence took him by surprise. "Weasley? What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you in private," Ron said and pushed him to his office. Hermione and Thompson followed behind.

"What's going on?" asked Whilberg, obviously upset but willing to suspend his anger for a moment.

"Harry and the team, when did they leave?"

"About an hour ago, maybe a bit more. Why?"

"They're in danger. The Dark Wizards who attacked me have an insider in the department. I don't know who it is, but whoever it is they're under the Imperius curse."

"Impossible!"

"We would have known!" cried the Aurors.

"I think Miss Granger should leave the office," Whilberg said. "This is private, official information."

"No way!" Ron exclaimed.

"I'm not leaving!" Hermione protested as well.

"Now that I think of it," Thompson said, "you're not an Auror anymore, Weasley."

"That's a fair point. You should follow the protocols and fill out the Anonymous Information Form 3-A27 that you can find at the front desk," added Whilberg.

"Are you daft?!" Hermione asked, shocked. "Ron is telling you that a team of Aurors is in danger, that you have a dangerous leak in the team, and you're suggesting he fills  _forms_?!"

Ron put a hand on Hermione's arm, silently asking her to calm down. He was thankful for her support but knew her outburst wouldn't help their situation. "I'm not discharged, so even if I'm not an Active Agent right now, I have a right to be heard. I'm telling you, I have my memory back now, and those wizards have a big plan. They're waiting for the team. They have alarms in place and tactics designed. The Aurors are in danger!"

Whilberg seemed at loss, conflicted between the rules and the need.

"We should implement the Mission Emergency Plan, Whilberg," Thompson suggested. "It's what the protocols describe that needs to be done."

"Damn the protocols! We have to do something now!" Ron finally exploded.

Ron knew he had made a mistake, but it was too late to take it back.

"Protocols are there for a reason, Weasley. The Mission Emergency Plan is a sensible course of action, and we're taking it."

"We're going with you," Hermione said.

"That's not happening," Thompson replied back. "You are a civilian."

"She's not!" Ron complained, indignantly, although he knew they were right.

"As a matter of fact, she  _is_  a civilian, and so are you, Weasley," Whilberg added. "You're not coming, either."

"I'm going to put the plan into action," Thompson announced, a small smile on the side of his mouth as he left the office. He thought he had won a battle, the bastard.

"I know the area better than anyone. I can help, and Hermione-" Ron started to argue, but was interrupted by the wizard in charge.

"That's not happening. We're doing what the department does in situations like this one, and we're protecting our people. If you have any other relevant information, please say so now, so that we can implement a contingency plan. Otherwise leave, Weasley, and let us do our job."

Ron thought fast, trying to come up with a plan of his own that made sense. He knew Whilberg was a sticker for the rules, and there was nothing he could do to change his mind; anything he said or did would only make him stick to the rules with even more determination.

"Alright, you're right. Please let us know as soon as you find them." Ron registered Hermione's shock and indignant reaction right away, so he gave her a look to indicate he had a plan. She seemed to understand and quickly shut her mouth.

"We will follow the protocols and let you know once it's safe."

"Harry is my friend, soon to be my brother-in-law. Don't risk his life for protocols, that's all I ask," Ron finally said and left the office with Hermione.

"What's wrong with that guy?! Doesn't he know there's a time to follow rules and a time to break them?!" Hermione asked once they were at a safe distance. Ron was walking fast and Hermione had to almost run just to keep up with him.

Ron couldn't help a small smile of his own; he had a thing for Hermione when she felt it was important to break the rules. Despite this, his worry was enough to mask anything else.

"We have to go. I know they're going to be following us; they don't trust that we won't interfere. We have to leave the Ministry area first, and then we can lose them and go to the area where the cabin is."

"C'mon," Ron insisted, taking Hermione by the hand, "we have to hurry, there's no time to lose."

* * *

 

Ron Apparated with Hermione somewhere close to the cabin, to one of the places of which he had a clear recollection of. He had chosen the location carefully, concerned with picking a place that would be far away enough from the cabin to be safe for them and the team, while not alerting the Dark Wizards of their presence. He forced the memories that came along with the place out of his mind; pain and fear were of no use for him at the moment. He turned to face Hermione for reassurance, his hands grabbing her by the arms.

"Alright love, listen," Ron said in a whisper. "Now that I have my memory back, I remember all the bits and pieces of conversation that I heard while I was captured. I have a pretty clear idea of what their plan is, but I haven't had the time to think this through as I much as I would have liked."

"You're trying to tell me that this it's dangerous, but I already know that. Should we call someone else to come help us?"

"I don't think there's time for that. Just remember to be careful, alright?" he replied, and deciding hurriedly, kissed her strongly and quickly. "These bastards are creating new and very dangerous magic. We know of the fourth Unforgivable, but I'm certain there's one more. I know that they used different spells on me. The day they captured me, I got hit by a spell that I wasn't prepared for; it made my mind split into different parts, and I didn't know what was true and what was made-up. I couldn't defend myself, because my brain couldn't decide what was real, what was an attack, or what was safe. I know I put up a shield against the spell, so maybe it just goes through such magic-"

"Ron," Hermione tried to interrupt and comfort him, but he steeled himself. There was no time for this, as much as he wanted to take what she was offering.

"No, love, we have to go. Just remember that information when choosing your spells. As much as I want to send you home, I know you'd hate me for that. So please always try for  _Expelliarmus_ , and if that fails, duck and get out of the way, alright? We have to attack and defeat, I don't think defensive spells are going to work."

He could see she wanted to reply, to complain, to ask; he also saw that she understood the urgency he felt. Finally, she nodded her acquiescence. "Let's go."

He took her hand and led her in the general direction of the cabin. He was scared, not so much for his own safety, but for the timing of their presence and for Hermione's safety. He didn't know the details of the plan that the team of Aurors was following, so he didn't know their timeframe. He thought about sending a message with his Patronus to Harry, but was afraid that it would somehow endanger him. A Dark Wizard might see it and know something was amiss. Or worse, it could distract Harry and his team, and if they were in some sort of battle, trying to defend themselves, any small distraction could be fatal.

They were getting closer, and Ron couldn't think of a plan that made him completely comfortable with the possible outcome. He was great at strategy, but it was difficult to make a smart decision when he was missing so much information.

They got close enough to the cabin that they could see part of it through the trees. He looked at Hermione and used his hands to communicate the need for silence, and how they would carefully circle the place. Ron tried to ignore all the little noises they were making; the branches breaking, the crunch of the dry leaves as they stepped on them, and even their breathing sounded loud to him. He tried to focus instead on finding Harry and his team of Aurors or, at least, on figuring out if the Dark Wizards were grouped in a particular place.

Ron saw them first; Harry and six Aurors were crouching at a safe distance from the cabin, looking at it intently. He turned to Hermione to indicate they were not to call out for the team, not until they knew the situation. He looked again at the Aurors to evaluate how safe it would be to make their presence known. As he did this, he noticed a single wizard standing behind them, with a scowl on his face. Ron recognized him. The man wasn't always in the cabin, but whenever he was, things got worse for Ron. With worry, Ron saw this wizard lift his wand and mutter something, and how one of the Aurors at the back of the group stood up rigidly, with the typical body sign of having been the victim of the Imperius curse.

Ron knew how critical this moment was. The intensity of that knowledge seemed to stretch time to impossible limits. It took Ron only a second to understand what was happening, but it felt like a century had come and gone. He heard Hermione gasp, probably having come to the same conclusion. The Dark Wizard, in his twisted mind, was planning to curse the team of Aurors using one of their own.

Ron knew he had just a moment to decide what to do. With a single look, he communicated to Hermione that this was it; they were fighting. He knew she had understood, and never thought to question how he was so sure. Instead, he focused on the Dark Wizard, hoping Hermione would think to focus on the Auror under the Imperius curse and prepare for battle.

"Expelliarmus!" he shouted, hearing Hermione's voice echoing his.

Everything was still happening in slow motion. Ron saw the Dark Wizard's wand fly in a long arch away from the man's hand, taken from him by the force of his and Hermione's spell. The wizard under the Imperius curse fell to the ground as if he were a marionette whose strings had been snapped free.

"AMBUSH!" someone in the team of Aurors screamed almost simultaneously. Then everything broke loose.

"Move! Defend!" Ron could hear Harry screaming. "They're behind us!"

"It's a trap!" an Auror yelled, someone Ron didn't recognize.

"Have at them, boys!" The Dark Wizard that seemed to be in command instructed the rest of the wizards on his team.

Shining bursts of light started flying in all directions; the ones missing people were breaking branches that exploded in tiny splinters all around them. Ron had to make the effort to concentrate on fighting, while keeping an eye on Hermione to try and protect her. He knew that if she knew he was distracted by her she would get mad, but honestly, how could he not be afraid for her? She wasn't trained for this kind of situation like he was, and, even with his preparation, he had gotten in trouble more than once. He tried using his fear to be more effective, and to fuel his magic to do his bidding. He needed the battle to finish fast, for everyone's benefit.

"Harry!" he screamed, hoping he wasn't risking his best mate in doing so. "Attack! Attack, don't defend!"

Ron curved his body to avoid being hit by a jet of green light. He used the movement to get closer to Hermione, so that he could jump in front of her if need be. The end of summer had kept the ground dry, and all the movement from the fighting wizards was lifting dust up like a cloud.

He knew there were three fronts right now: the Auror team, the Dark Wizards, and him and Hermione. Spells were being shouted everywhere so quickly and continuously that the cacophony seemed almost like a single long string of jumbled human voices. When he realized Hermione was trying to get to the Aurors, he held her back and shouted loud enough to get her to hear him above the noise. "We can divide them if we stay aside!"

She nodded and started aiming her spells at the Dark Wizards, shouting every attacking spell she knew.

" _Bombarda Maxima_!" Hermione shouted. " _Everte Statum!_ "

"Abbott! Cullen!" Harry roared to get the Aurors' attention while pulling the inert form of the cursed Auror out of the battle. "Join Ron and Hermione! Attack, don't defend!" he instructed them, obviously taking Ron's words to heart even if he couldn't possibly understand the reason.

Aurors Abbott and Cullen moved slowly towards Ron and Hermione, and Ron realized that Harry had come to the same conclusion: they had to divide to conquer.

" _Obscuro_!" Ron yelled, putting his full attention back to the fighting.

Ron counted only six Dark Wizards, half of them scattered through the trees. He knew that while the Aurors had the advantage in numbers, the Dark Wizards had the advantage of using unknown dark magic that the Ministry's agents weren't prepared for. He ducked out of the way of a spell, and saw Hermione hiding behind a tree as a spell flew right past where she had been standing just a second before. Ron jumped out of the way and hid behind the same tree, quickly checking on her. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she replied. "You?"

"I'm fine," he said. "Let's go."

They moved out of the protection of the thick trunk and continued duelling the Dark Wizards. The noise was calming down as some of the fighting men started falling to the ground, were tied up, stunned, or petrified. Ron chose one of the remaining Dark Wizards at random and started duelling with him. The man turned around to face his new opponent, and the instant Ron met his eyes, rage burnt white and wild in his mind and his hands felt as if on fire from the strength of his magic. Almost without realizing his choice, he felt the spell build in his gut, go up his arm, and explode from his wand like light blue lightening.

"Stupefy!" he heard himself scream and almost instantly the Dark Wizard fall to the ground.

Ron quickly noticed the quiet around him as his eyes focused on the man below him. He dropped his arm feeling vindicated in attacking the same man that had tortured him, and knowing that his revenge was in not killing the man, but in letting him live to suffer the consequences of his actions.

* * *

 

Ron tried to make sense of what had just happened. He knew that, logically, it hadn't been more than fifteen minutes, maybe twenty, but the fight had felt like it had lasted much more than that.

After the Dark Wizard he had been duelling had fallen to the ground, Ron had seen the remaining Aurors tending to the two fallen wizards in the team and securing the ones from the opposing group. As they did this, he felt Hermione give him a kiss on his face and then saw her walking to Harry and giving him a fierce hug. Ron walked to them, and saw Harry's question in his eyes even before he had opened his mouth.

"What the hell happened?!" Harry said, confirming Ron's impression.

"Ron has his memory back! He knew all of this was a trap!"

"We went to the Ministry, but you know how Whilberg gets. Him and Thompson-" Ron was interrupted as a new team of Aurors arrived to the area.

"The bloody wan-" Harry started, but when he saw the team of Auror rescuers, lead by Thompson, he turned to him. "You bloody wanker!"

Ron saw the man's face pale in surprise, obviously having registered that they were late to the party.

Harry stomped his way to the Auror reinforcement group, and started shouting at them to the effect of the importance of critical and strategic thinking, stupidity, and the unnecessary risk of two team of Aurors because of their faulty thinking.

"HOW IS IT POSSIBLE THAT YOU KNEW WE WERE IN DANGER AND YET CHOSE TO WAIT?!" Harry started scolding them, his fury evident in his voice.

Ron stayed away, trying to look neutral and only slightly disapproving. Once he caught sight of the way Thompson was looking at him full of ire and shame, he decided to take Hermione's hand and move away from the team. He knew his presence was grey territory, and Hermione's was completely out of the rules. He also knew that it was the only course of action that had any hopes to actually protect Harry and his team. Maybe it was wise to let Harry handle the situation for the time being.

He barely noticed how his steps were taking him to the cabin until he found himself facing the front door. It was strange to look at it like this, with no hurry and feeling safe. It looked smaller, somehow, making it even harder to believe he had spent the best part of a year trapped inside it.

"Do you want to leave?" Hermione asked beside him, holding his hand with hers.

Ron turned his head to look at her. Her face was still slightly coloured from the battle, her hair as messy as always around her face. Her eyes were bright, and he could sense that she simply wanted to help him do whatever he needed to do. The love he felt for her at that moment gave him strength to do what he knew was best for him.

He looked at the cabin again, and without saying a word, held Hermione's hand tight and took her with him as he crossed the door to enter that damn place.

Harry's yelling-he was still royally pissed off-faded away as he concentrated on the small room that had welcomed them. He still had the impression that it was smaller, although it had more light in it that he remembered. He walked around, paying attention to the little details: a rattled couch here, thick and dirty drapes covering a window over there. The walls were damp and stained, and the smell of moss clung in the air.

They walked through the short hallway and into the back of the cabin, where they found a door hanging loose from its hinges. He recognized it. He knew there would be a set of steps going down that would lead him to the cell in which he had been kept for what felt like ages. He wasn't sure he wanted to see it again, whether it would help him put a final closure to the whole ordeal or not.

"Is it down there? Where they kept you?" Hermione asked. Ron nodded.

She let go of his hand and tore the door away, the rotten wood unable to resist Hermione's pull, so that the stairs would be accessible for them. Ron could see her take a deep breath, probably to gather strength, and then take the first step down. He suddenly panicked, irrational images of being kept captive again plaguing his mind.

Ron had to make the conscious effort to breathe again to calm his fears. Clenching his fists, he took the first step down the stairs, setting in motion an automatic answer from his body. The following steps were surprisingly easy, so that when he reached the cell he was able to look at it in an almost detached manner.

The place looked the same. Ron imagined he could conjure up every detail of that room for the rest of his life. He had spent countless hours confined to this tight space, always slightly cold, always slightly sick. The fear was completely gone, and was replaced by simmering anger. He had suffered so much in this place. He knew it wouldn't take him long to destroy the place and reduce it to dust...

Hermione's hand touched his arm, causing him to abandon the fantasies and memories in his mind. Her eyes were filled with tears. He didn't stop her when she reached for the comfort of his arms. He held her close, his head hanging low so that he could fill his nose with the smell of her hair.

"You're free. We can forget about this place now. Take me home, Ron," Hermione said, her voice muffled by his clothes.

Those simple words triggered the peace he needed to finally let go of this place. She was right; he was not a prisoner anymore. He was free, and his life was fully open for him. This time, all he needed to do was to will it so.

"Let's go, love. I'll take you home."


	16. The Burrow

It was September 19 and Ron wanted to do something special for Hermione. She knew he was baffled, that she simply wanted a family dinner at the Burrow. Hermione had tried to explain that after all they had gone through lately, she just wanted to celebrate that all of them were together and safe now; that being surrounded by family was always special to her. He had rolled his eyes, shaken his head in bafflement, and said, "If it'll make you happy, that's what we'll do."

So now they were outside as the sun started to get close to the horizon, a long table filled with all her favourite magical people. All of the Weasleys and their significant others were sitting around the table, eating and bickering, Ron sitting next to her, his foot hooked around her ankle so that his hands were free to eat and gesticulate. Hermione focused a moment on that point of contact, rejoicing that he had done it, another sign of his recovery. She had always appreciated how it kept them connected in the most demure way possible; no one would take a second look, yet it was intimate. It was a way of touching and sensing each other that was unique to them. She smiled and looked at Ron, surprised to find that he was looking at her as well.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked in a low voice. "You look very happy."

"I'm thinking about us," she replied. "I'm so happy everything has finally settled, and we can finally carry on with our lives."

Ron leaned in and kissed her cheek, provoking a few comments from their family.

"Oi! No kissing at the table! I want to keep my food in my stomach, thank you very much!" Percy teased.

"Sod off!" Ron replied, although he was smiling again. "No wonder you don't have a girlfriend, if kisses gross you out! Good thing Hermione and I are going for a walk, so that you can finish your meal in peace."

Ron took Hermione's hand as he stood up, pulling at her to come with him. "I wasn't aware we were going for a walk," she commented.

"Now you are, love," Ron winked at her, and led her out of the garden and into the fields, leaving behind all the teasing that suggested what they were really up to with their supposed walk.

They strolled for a few minutes, hand in hand. Soon, Hermione was sure she knew where he was taking them: to their favourite tree next to the pond.

"You were done eating, right?" Ron asked, seemingly just thinking of it.

"Yes, don't worry about it."

"Good," he said, and fell silent again.

They arrived at the tree, its thick trunk shaped in such a way that it offered the perfect support for Ron's back. He sat down and got comfortable, as he always did. Hermione sat in between his legs, laying against his chest. She rested her hands on her belly, waiting for his hands to cover hers, their fingers instinctively intertwining. His hands were warm as they lay on hers, his body radiating heat, protecting her from the evening chill. The sky was a beautiful mix of blue, violet, orange, and pink, the last of the sunlight shining against the thin clouds. The pond was dark, yet perfectly reflected the multiplicity of colours above them. Pleased, Hermione let out a sigh of pure happiness.

"This is lovely," Hermione commented.

"Yes, it is," Ron said.

"It's the perfect seal to everything. I'm so happy to finally say, hey, it's all over."

"Yeah. Harry signed the last of the paperwork at the Department yesterday morning. I finished all of my own before coming here. Whilberg and Thomson need to attend an Ethics, Strategies and Management of Auror Team Efforts workshop, and you and I have been cleared from everything. The Dark Wizards are heavily guarded, waiting for their trial. All's good. We can finally say we can forget about the whole thing."

They fell silent for a few more minutes. Hermione's mind had started to wander when she felt Ron clearing his throat behind her.

"Yes?" she asked.

"I think... I think that now that everything is solved, we can start deciding what we want to do," Ron replied. She turned her body so that she could look at him, his arms still around her.

"What do you mean?"

Ron looked at the horizon for a moment, then back at her. "We've been together through a lot, Hermione. Ever since I met you, things have not stopped happening to us."

She laughed. "I've noticed, yes. So?"

"So I think we should have something happen that is entirely our choice," he continued explaining.

Yet Hermione wasn't completely sure she was following his logic. "That sounds brilliant. Do you have something particular in mind?"

"Yes. I was thinking that we could set up a wooden arch of some sort over there," he said pointing to the dock. "We could set chairs there in the sand, so that the guests can see everything but we would still be sort of the focus. You know what I mean?"

Hermione had a good idea that she understood what he was talking about, but was afraid to say it. If she was wrong, it could lead to a very awkward conversation. Finally, with her voice in a higher pitch than usual and hating herself a bit for it, she asked, "Wooden arch?"

"Yeah, I don't know the name of those things, but I think one would look pretty. We can put flowers around it- or not, if you don't like the idea?" Ron added almost as an afterthought.

"I like flowers," Hermione said, unsure as how to proceed.

"Good. Then we can have a big dinner in a big tent, like we've done before. We choose the cake and the food to be served, though! Would you like that?"

"Ron, do you... I mean, are you talking about..." Hermione was overwhelmed in confusion, pure happiness, and excitement. She wasn't able to continue.

"Our wedding, love. Marry me. Soon. I don't want to wait anymore," he finally explained, taking her left hand and kissing her engagement ring. "We've waited long enough. What do you say?" he asked, his eyes shining with hope and enthusiasm.

"Some in our families will be upset at the short notice," she said with a smile so big it almost made her facial muscles cramp.

"I don't bloody care."

"Your mum might want to have an input in our food choices."

"Our wedding, our choices."

"Do you have a date in mind?"

"October 31. It's a Friday."

"And the anniversary of the day we became friends. The start of it all."

Hermione was overcome with happiness. Ron had obviously been thinking about this, planning for this. Despite all the troubles and difficult experiences, she felt like the luckiest witch on earth.

"Say yes, Hermione."

She kneeled in between his legs, and wrapped her arms around his neck as his wrapped her waist. She kissed him enthusiastically, giddy with joy at the prospect of their near future. "Yes! I said yes to you before, and I'm saying it again. I want to marry you as soon as possible. I would marry you tomorrow, Ron. I'll marry you in a month. As long as we're together forever, I'd wear an orange dress if it made you happy."

"Well, if that's not a great idea!" Ron said, laughing, teasing her. His eyes were sparkling with the same delight she felt. One of his hands started pinching her bum, as he added, "I'll wear an orange tux, and we can enchant the tent to be orange as well. It'll be glorious! Orange cake, orange everything..."

"Stop that! I was joking," Hermione complained, squirming against him.

"Too late," he continued. He calmed down a bit, and his hands stopped the pinching and started to caress instead. "Then, when we're done partying, we'll go somewhere special for our wedding night. I'll want to remember that night forever, love."

"Sounds good to me," Hermione said, her body starting to tingle as she thought of the sort of things she imagined crossing Ron's mind.

Hermione was suddenly very glad at her choice of clothes for that day. She was wearing a shirt and a cardigan, and even though she hadn't thought much of it when she picked them, they would certainly offer good access. She found that she really wanted him to have access to her at the moment.

One of Ron's hands was still fondling her buttock, and the other came up to open the outer layer of clothing, then softly wrapping his hand around her breast on top of her shirt. She shuddered as his thumb rubbed her nipple, making it pucker up and become deliciously sensitive.

"I'm planning to explore every bit of your body that night, Hermione," Ron said, his voice slightly husky. "I want to memorize every spot and freckle."

"I like the way you think," she replied.

He bent his head to kiss her neck and suck on her earlobe. "I am good at strategizing, after all," he commented as he kissed her jaw, manoeuvring her legs to be straddling his hips.

"You are good at many things," she stated, relishing in the way her body had started to hum in anticipation.

"If I could only tell that to my fifteen year old self," Ron said with a low chuckle. He ran his fingers along the shirt's neckline, stretching the fabric so that his fingertips would tease the top of her chest. "To have known back then that I would have you shiver against me, like this. That I would marry you and have you want me like this."

Hermione knew that in a way, he was asking for permission to take her here in the open. It wasn't the first time, but she appreciated that he wanted her to be comfortable with it, not worrying on whether they were going to get caught. She was feeling happy and reckless and aroused enough to think, to hell with it, and simply reached for the neck of her shirt and pulled down forcefully. She caught both shirt and bra, freeing her breast. Ron didn't need any more incentive or instruction. He lowered his mouth to suck on her nipple, his other hand pulling at the clothes covering its pair. As soon as it was possible, he switched breasts to play with it, lapping at the brown, wrinkled bit of skin.

She could feel him getting hard under her. She started rubbing herself against him, the movement stimulating them both. He grunted, his hands reaching around her to grab her ass, his fingers softly following the seam of her jeans down to her crotch. He did it a few more times, knowing how she loved the soft teasing against her core.

"Let's get rid of these trousers," Hermione requested, and they both ditched the heavy material as quickly as possible. She was naked from the waist down, but he had had simply pushed his pants and underpants over his knees. He had fallen a bit from the sitting position, so that his back was still curved against the trunk of the tree but his pelvis was fully resting on the grass. She straddled him again, taking his member in her hand. Swiftly, she lowered herself and licked its head, to then wrap her lips around it.

"Bloody Merlin," Ron said, gasping. His hand grabbed her hair and gathered it away, so that he could see what she was doing. She sucked on him, enjoying the little noises he was making. She licked the length of him a few times, and then straddled him again, her hand still holding to him.

She wanted him in her, but chose to prolong the torture of it a bit more. She positioned his penis against his taut belly, and started riding him so that she could rub her clitoris against its length.

Soon they were both panting, his hands around her waist grabbing her hard enough to leave marks.

"Now, love, please," Ron begged, and she matched his need. She stopped, taking him in her hand and positioning him so that she could take him all in.

She barely noticed the sigh she let out when she felt him parting her flesh. She started moving, increasing her speed slowly until she was riding him hard, moans and groans filling the air. When her legs started to fail, he pushed her backwards to a forty-five degree angle, almost losing the connection as he kneeled for leverage. One of his hands rested on the floor behind her, his other arm surrounding her waist, holding her in place. She hooked one of her arms around his neck as her other hand reached back behind her for support, her legs locking behind his back. It was the first time they were in this particular position, and as he started to move in her, she realized how perfect it felt.

"Good heavens," she murmured as her climax started building in her. It didn't take long. Just a few more strokes and she was gone. "Holy- Ron!"

He didn't respond, but his ragged breath told her he was getting close to his own release. He kept pounding into her, until soon she felt the warmth of his orgasm filling her.

They collapsed together, a tangle of arms and legs and raspy breath.

It was almost fully dark now. The breeze was cold, and Hermione felt a shiver go through her of a totally different nature than before. She sat up and cleaned herself, then started getting dressed. Ron followed her example, pulling his trousers up to his waist. "Next time we come here, I'm pretty sure I'm going to get a hard on just looking at this tree," he commented off-handedly.

Hermione laughed. "Potentially inconvenient, if we're not alone at the time."

"Oh, don't worry about it. Haven't you noticed they never come here if we're alone?"

Hermione thought back to the many times they had come to this particular place "Are you implying... did someone see us?!"

"Nah, nobody risked it, because they all knew from the very beginning. Didn't you hear them just now?"

"Yes, but I thought they were just being childish!"

It was Ron's turn to laugh. "Childish? Ha. Don't worry about it. They all pretend it's just teasing. Mum definitely believes it's just teasing and chastises them for it." He got up and lent a hand to Hermione to help her get up. He then pulled her to him, hugging her. "Really, don't think about it. I say we go back now, and pretend all we did was plan our wedding. Alright?"

"Alright," Hermione replied, making a conscious effort to push the worry out of his mind. She dearly wanted to think of their wedding instead. She smiled. "I love you."

He kissed her. "I love you, too. Let's go," he added, pulling her hand and taking her in the direction of the house. "We have an announcement to make."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That, dear readers, is the end to this story. I hope you enjoyed it! Although there are things I would like to change, I still really enjoyed the process. Thanks again to the amazing Pili, for being such a supportive beta and friend. Also, thanks to the hubby (honouraryweasley12), Otterandterrier, and Diva-gonzo for their help at different parts of this story. 
> 
> And of course, thanks to all of you who have left kudos or have bookmarked it, and especially to all of those who have taken the time to leave a review. Each and every one of them has put a big smile on my face! I shall reply to all recent reviews tomorrow.
> 
> I'm a better writer than I am a fanartist (take that however you want, lol), but I did draw a little (smutty) piece to go along with this chapter. I'm definitely and amateur, but I like it well. Go and check it out at my Tumblr blog! (aloemilk dot tumblr dot com).
> 
> ps: This story will have a sequel one day. I can't really say when, since first I want to finish and publish Love Me Forever. This story should be able to stand on its own, though!

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first original writing I've done for my OTP in a long while, and first multichap ever. I hope you like it as much as I'm enjoying writing it.
> 
> Thanks forever to my amazing beta Pili, without whom this story would have had too many typos and errors for you to read without getting a headache.
> 
> Also, I want to thank Otterandterrier and Diva-gonzo, for encouraging me to finish this story when I found it on my pc after 3 years (!).


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